"Yes, father."

"See many rabbits?"

"Yes, father, plenty."

"That's right. I want to keep that place for a bit of shooting, and I'm thinking of buying a bigger boat, Sep, and I shall keep her there."

"Oh!" I cried, "a bigger sailing boat?"

"Yes, a much bigger one, my boy--big enough to take quite a cruise. You must make haste and get finished at school, my lad, and then I can take you afloat, and make a sailor of you, the same as your grandfather and great-grandfather used to be."

"Yes, I should like to be a sailor, father," I said.

"Ah, well, we shall see," he replied; "but that is not the business to see to now. The first thing is to take in rations, so come along and have breakfast."

I was quite willing, and in a few minutes we were seated in the snug cottage parlour with the window open, and the scent of the roses brought in by the breeze off the sea.

"Why, Sep," said my father, after I had been disposing of bacon and eggs and milk for some time, "how quiet you are! Isn't the breakfast so good as you get at school?"

"Heaps better, father;" for schools were very different places in those days to what they are now.

"Then what makes you so quiet?"

"I was thinking how nice it would be if it was always holidays."

"With the sun shining warmly like it is now, and the sky blue, and the sea quite calm, eh?"

"Yes, father."

"You young goose--I mean gander," he said laughing. "Pleasure that has not been earned by hard work of some kind is poor tasteless stuff, of which everybody would soon tire; and as to its being always hot and sunshiny, why, my dear boy, I've been out in the tropics when the sky has been for weeks without a cloud, the seams oozing pitch, and the rails and bolts and bell all so hot you could not touch them, and we would have given anything for a thick mist or a heavy rain, or a good puff of cool wind. No, no, my dear boy, England and its climate are best as they are. In all my travels I never found a better or more healthy place; and as to the holidays--bah! Life was not made for play.

Kittens are the most playful things I know, but they soon give it up, and take to work."

"Yes, father," I said with a sigh, "but school exercises are so hard."

"The better lad you when you've mastered them. It's hard work to learn to be a sailor, but the more credit to the young man who masters navigation, and gets to know how to thoroughly handle a ship; better still how to manage his men, for a crew is a very mixed-up set of fellows, Sep."

"Yes, father, I suppose so. But I am trying very hard at school."

"I know you are, Sep. Have another egg--and that bit of brown. You've got room, I know. Make muscle."

He helped me to what I was by no means unwilling to take, and then continued:

"Of course you are trying hard, and I know it. Otherwise I shouldn't have been so glad to see you home for the holidays you've earned, and be ready to say to you, 'Never mind about holiday lessons, I don't approve of them, my lad; put them aside and I'll make excuses for you to the doctor. Work as hard as you can when you are at school, and now you are at home, play as hard as you can.' We must have a bit of fishing. I've got some new lines, and a trammel net to set, and we'll do a good deal of boating. You sha'n't stand still for want of something to do.

What's that?"

"Only a stone, father," I replied, for in pulling out my handkerchief, the piece that I had put in my pocket on the previous day flew out, and fell with a crash in the fireplace.

"What do you want with stones in your pocket?" he said rather crossly, as he rose and picked up the piece to throw it out of the window; but, as soon as he had it in his hand, its appearance took his attention. He turned it over, weighed it in his hand, and then held it more to the light.

I went on eating my breakfast and watching him closely, for I did not want to lose that piece of stone, and I was afraid that he would ask me more questions about it, sooner than bear which I was ready to see him throw the piece of rock out of the window, when, if he threw it far enough, the chances were that it would go over the cliff and fall upon the beach.

Just as I feared, the questions came as he put on his gla.s.ses and examined the fragment more closely.

"Where did you get this, Sep?" he said--"on the beach?"

"No, father, up on this side of the Gap."

"Whereabouts?"

"About three hundred yards from Uggleston's cottage, and half-way up the slope, where the rocks stand up so big on the top."

"Hah! Yes, I know the place. It was lying on the slope, I suppose?"

"Well, ye-es, father."

"Humph, strange!" he muttered. "There can't be any metals there.

Somebody must have dropped it."

I hesitated. I wanted to speak out, but I was afraid, for I did not know what he would say if he heard that we had blown up one of the rocks with gunpowder, and sent all those stones hurtling down the side of the cliff.

"Yes," continued my father, "somebody must have dropped it. A good specimen--a very good specimen indeed."

Just then he raised his eyes, and caught me gazing at him wistfully.

"Hallo!" he said, "what does that mean? Why are you looking so serious and strange?"

"Was I, father?"

"Yes, sir: of course you were. No nonsense. Speak out like a man, and a gentleman. Not quite the same thing, Sep, for a gentleman is not always a thorough man; but a thorough man is always a gentleman. Now, what is it?"

I did not answer.

"Come, Sep," he said sharply, "you're getting a great fellow now, and I want you, the bigger you grow, the more frank and open. I don't want you to grow into one of those men who look upon their father as someone to be cheated and blinded in every way, instead of as their truest and firmest friend and adviser. Now, sir, you have something on your mind."

"Yes, father," I said slowly.

"Hah! I thought as much. In mischief yesterday?"

"I'm afraid so, father."

"Well, out with it. You know my old saying, 'The truth can be blamed, but can never be shamed.'"

"Yes, father."

"Well, I'm sure my boy could not bear to be shamed."

"Oh, no, father."

"Of course not," he said quietly. "And I'm sure you've got manly feeling enough not to be afraid of being blamed; so out with it, sir, and take your punishment, whatever it is, as the son of a sailor should."