"Convert me, Master Peasegood; why, what's amiss with me?"

"Amiss, thou wicked old reprobate? Why thou'rt an open sinner, and never com'st to church."

"Eh, but I would if thou'dst let me smoke my pipe by the open door."

"Then you are repenting of your evil ways."

"Nay, I've nothing to repent of, but a love or two."

"And spiriting away poor Abel Churr."

"Nay, parson, I never did; I wish I had," growled Wat.

"Then that's as bad."

"Nay, parson, don't preach; I arn't a bad 'un after all. I always tries, and gets along pretty well for a time, but, just as I've got as perfect as can be, down comes the devil with a pretty girl, and then I'm done."

"Out upon thee, Wat Kilby, my cheeks burn with shame."

"Ay, it do make the cheeks burn, parson. But it always was so, parson, and that's the devil's way. He always did serve me so, and you may preach at me and preach, and preach, and preach, but unless you can preach all the pretty women off the earth, if you're right in what you say, I'm sartain to be burnt."

"But you must resist the devil and he'll flee, Wat Kilby."

"Nay: not he, parson. He knows his man too well. There, it's all no good. Reach down thy hand--got it. That's well."

"Thanks, Wat Kilby. Man, it is a goodly offering of the precious weed."

"Thou and the king said it was devilish poison."

"Ah, um, yes; but my ideas are being modified, my man. And now what does this mean?"

"Well, you see, parson, it's all about a woman I have come."

"Is this a time man to speak about a wedding?"

"Yes, parson; when you have to go by orders."

"Well speak out quick, for the night is chill."

"I will, parson. It's like this: I love pretty Mistress Janet at the Pool."

"For a grandchild, Wat Kilby?"

"Nay, master; for a wife. I wanted to get speech of her, but could not get me near. Tell her, and keep thy eye on her as well, that Wat Kilby han't forgot, and will come back and wed her."

"Well man, well?"

"And I ask thee, parson, not to wed her to any other man."

"But man, how can I help--"

"Why, forbid it all, and I'll sattle down to be a better man and come to church when I be not at sea. Sometimes I'll come and sit in the porch o' Sunday afternoons. And now I must hasten to catch the skipper. Tell her from me, parson, Wat Kilby will come and make her an honest woman, and be true; and now good night."

"Here, stop, you vile old sinner!" cried Master Peasegood, but he only heard old Wat Kilby striding rapidly away, and after listening for a few moments he closed the lattice with a slam.

"The place gets worse the more I preach," he cried, angrily. "Master and man. A nice charge, verily--but Wat and that Janet! My preaching must be stronger, yet. That wicked wench!"

Five minutes later Master Peasegood was fast asleep, and the casement-frames vibrated to his snore.

Volume 2, Chapter XII.

HOW THE GAME WENT AGAINST MASTER COBBE.

A very different scene was enacting at the Pool-house on that very evening. Sir Mark had spent the day mostly out of doors, and had sought out the founder, who, finding that he made no further allusions to his child, but turned the conversation to the works, readily showed him the busy tasks in progress, where, about a mile from the house, men were digging ironstone from out of a pit. Then on the way back he pointed with pride to the deep hole in the face of a precipitous mass of stone, where the shell had torn for itself a place in which to explode, and then rent out the rock in splintered fragments, which lay about side by side with the pieces of iron of which the shell was composed.

"Does that hole go in far?" said Sir Mark, eyeing it curiously.

"Goodness knows," was the reply. "Deep enough. That shot would destroy part of an enemy's stronghold, or drive in the side of a ship. But come, and you shall see them get ready a furnace for my next gun."

Sir Mark followed, and watched the process as layers of ironstone were alternated with charcoal from a mighty heap that lay hard by.

A visit to one of the powder-sheds came next, after Sir Mark had left outside his sword, dagger, and spurs.

"Are you not too particular?" he said, rather disdainfully.

"Not a bit," was the bluff reply. "Would'st have his Majesty's Ambassador blown into fragments, like one of my shells? I am none too particular," he said, as he saw his companion shudder. "I have had so many accidents here that you must allow me to know what is best."

After this Sir Mark seemed disposed to shirk the visit, but he made an effort, and walked through the place more manfully, looking with curious eyes at the dull black grains, or masses of composition in an unfinished state.

"How would his Majesty like a run through here?" said the founder, with a chuckle. "Powder will always have an ill savour in his nostrils."

It was with no little sense of relief that Sir Mark found himself outside, close by the shed where the great howitzer had been placed, and at his solicitation the founder readily consented to have the gun out once more, and with boyish eagerness devoted himself to test the powers of the piece and its bursting shells, when loaded after Gil's own fashion.

At last the founder and his guest had returned, partaken of the evening meal, which Mace dispensed with the calmness of one whose heart was quite at rest; and finally she had retired to find occasion to take Janet to task for being giggling and whispering in the shrubbery with one of Sir Mark's gaily-dressed men, for by dint of careful drying and smoothing, the traces of the plunge into the mill-race had been made to disappear.

"Now, Master Cobbe," said Sir Mark, "let us calmly and in friendly spirit talk over our affairs again. Suppose you fill your glass."

"That I will," said the founder; "and you do the same."

"I'll drink with you and welcome," said Sir Mark, filling his glass, nodding, and then wetting his lips, while the founder took a hearty draught.

"That's better," he said. "And now, sir, what is it to be--a good order for his Majesty's troops?"

"Yes, and fortune for you Master Cobbe. This order will be but the introduction to many. Why should you not be ordnance-master to his Majesty?"

"Why, indeed, my lad," said the founder, composedly. "I should gain, of course, but the King would be no loser."

"Then why not have it so, Master Cobbe. Come, I appeal to you--I plead to you. Are you blind to your daughter's advantages? I am not a moneyed man, but I offer position and a title."