"What, up, d.i.c.k?" he said in a low voice, after a glance at the bed, where Arthur was sleeping soundly.

"Yes, father; I was going to have a bathe."

"But--do you feel well?"

"Yes, quite well, father. I'm all right."

Mr Temple looked puzzled for a few minutes, and then rubbed his ear, half-amused, half vexed.

"Don't wake Arthur," he said. "Come along down and we'll have a walk before breakfast."

"All right, father!" cried d.i.c.k smiling, and he followed his father out of the room and down-stairs, where they met the landlord.

"All right again then, sir?" said the latter cheerily. "Ah! I thought our salt-water wouldn't hurt him. Rather a rough ride for him, though, first time. When would you like breakfast, sir?"

"At eight," said Mr Temple; and after a few more words he and d.i.c.k strolled out upon the cliff.

"Now are you sure, d.i.c.k, that you are quite well?" said his father.

"Have you any feverish sensations?"

"No, father."

"You don't feel anything at all?"

"No, father. Yes, I do," cried d.i.c.k sharply.

"Indeed! what?" cried Mr Temple.

"So precious hungry."

"Oh!" said his father, smiling. "Well, here is one who will find us some refreshment."

He pointed to a man with a large can, and they were willingly supplied each with a draught of milk, after which they bent their steps towards the pier.

"I have my gla.s.s, d.i.c.k," said Mr Temple, "and I can have a good look at the sh.o.r.e from out there."

"Lend it to me, father," cried d.i.c.k eagerly; and quickly focussing it, he directed it at a group of fishermen on their way down to the harbour.

"Yes, there they are," cried d.i.c.k eagerly. "There's Josh, and there's Will. I say, father, I don't believe they had the doctor to them last night," he added laughingly. "You were too frightened about me, you know."

"The danger is behind you now, and so you laugh at it, my boy," replied Mr Temple quietly; "but you did not feel disposed to laugh last night when you were drifting in the boat. And, d.i.c.k, my boy, some day you may understand better the meaning of the word anxiety."

"Were you very anxious about me last night, father?" said d.i.c.k eagerly.

"I was in agony, my boy," said Mr Temple quietly.

d.i.c.k's lips parted, and he was about to say something, but the words would not come. His lip quivered, and the tears rose to his eyes, but he turned away his head, thrust his hands down into his pockets, and began to whistle, while his father's brow wrinkled, and, not seeing his boy's face, nor reading the emotion the lad was trying to hide, his face grew more and more stern, while a sensation of mingled bitterness and pain made him silent for some little time.

They walked on in silence, till suddenly Mr Temple's eyes lit upon the top of the gilt-edged cigar-case sticking out of d.i.c.k's pocket.

"What have you there, d.i.c.k?" he said rather sternly.

"Where, father?"

"In your pocket."

"Nothing, father. My knife and things are in the other clothes. Oh, this!" he said, suddenly remembering the case, and turning scarlet.

"Yes," said Mr Temple severely, "that! Open it."

d.i.c.k took the case from his pocket slowly and opened it.

"I thought so," said Mr Temple sternly. "Cigars for a boy not sixteen!

Are you aware, sir, that what may be perfectly correct in a man is often in a boy nothing better than a vice."

"Yes, father," said d.i.c.k humbly.

"So you have taken to smoking?"

"No, father."

"Don't tell me a falsehood, sir!" cried Mr Temple hotly. "How dare you deny it when you have that case in your hand. Now, look here, sir: I want to treat my boys as lads who are growing into men. I am not going to talk to you about punishment--I don't believe in coa.r.s.e punishments.

I want there to be a manly feeling of confidence between me and my boys."

d.i.c.k winced at that word confidence, and he wanted to say frankly that the case belonged to Arthur; but it seemed to him so mean to get out of a sc.r.a.pe by laying the blame upon another; and, besides, he knew how particular his father was about Arthur, and how he would be hurt and annoyed if he knew that his brother smoked.

"I am more angry than I could say," continued Mr Temple; "and I suppose I ought to take away that case, in which you have been foolish enough to spend your pocket-money; but I will not treat my boys as if I were a schoolmaster confiscating their playthings. Don't let me see that again."

"No, father," said d.i.c.k, with a sigh of relief, though he felt very miserable, and in momentary dread lest his father should ask him some pointed question to which he would be bound to reply.

They walked on in silence for some minutes, and the beautiful morning and grand Cornish scenery were losing half their charms, when Mr Temple finished his remarks about the cigar-case with:

"Did you smoke yesterday, d.i.c.k?"

"No, father?"

"Were you going to smoke to-day?"

"No, father."

"Honour, d.i.c.k?"

"Honour, father, and I won't smoke till you tell me I may."

Mr Temple looked at him for a moment, and then nodded his satisfaction.

By this time they were close to the harbour, where, being recognised by several of the fishermen, there was a friendly nod or two, and a smile from first one and then another, and a hearty sing-song "Good-morning!"

before they reached the middle of the pier, close up to which the lugger was moored. Josh and Will were upon deck discussing what was to be done to the boat, partly stove in by the steamer on the previous evening; whether to try and patch her up themselves or to let her go to the boat hospital just beyond the harbour head, where old Isaac Pentreath, the boat-builder, put in new linings and put out new skins, and supplied schooners and brigs with knees or sheathing or tree-nail or copper bolt.