t un grumble away. The best cure for grumbling, says
he, was to give it free course. If a man could speak out in meeting,
says he, he'd work no mischief in secret.

"Sea-lawyers, eh?" says Peter. "Huh! What you fellers want, anyhow?
Huh? You got everything now that any man could expect. Isn't you
housed? Isn't you fed? Isn't you clothed? Isn't you got a parson and a
schoolmaster? Damme, I believes you wants a doctor settled in the
harbor! A doctor! An' 'tisn't two years since I got you your
schoolmaster! Queer times we're havin' in the outports these days,
with every harbor on the coast wantin' a doctor within hail. You're
well enough done by at Gingerbread Cove. None better nowhere. An' why?
Does you ever think o' that? Why? Because I got my trade here. An'
think o' _me_! Damme, if ar a one o' you had my brain-labor t' do,
you'd soon find out what harsh labor was like. What with bad debts an'
roguery an' failed seasons an' creditors t' St. John's I'm hard put to
it t' keep my seven senses. An' small thanks I gets--me that keeps
this harbor alive, in famine an' plenty. 'Tis the business I haves
that keeps you. You make trouble for my business, ecod, an' you'll
come t' starvation! Now, you mark me!"

There would be a scattered time when Pinch-a-Penny would yield an
inch. Oh, ay! I've knowed Pinch-a-Penny to drop the price of
stick-candy when he had put the price of flour too high for anybody's
comfort.

* * * * *

Well, now, Long Tom Lane, of Gingerbread Cove, had a conscience, too.
But 'twas a common conscience. Most men haves un. And they're irksome
enough for some. 'Twas not like Pinch-a-Penny Peter's conscience.
Nothing useful ever come of it. 'Twas like yours and mine. It troubled
Tom Lane to be honest and it kept him poor. All Tom Lane's conscience
ever aggravated him to do was just to live along in a religious sort
of fashion and rear his family and be decently stowed away in the
graveyard when his time was up if the sea didn't cotch un first. But
'twas a busy conscience for all that--and as sharp as a fish-prong. No
rest for Tom Lane if he didn't fatten his wife and crew of little lads
and maids! No peace of mind for Tom if he didn't labor! And so Tom
labored and labored and labored. Dawn to dusk his punt was on the
grounds off Lack-a-Day Head, taking fish from the sea to be salted and
dried and passed into Pinch-a-Penny's storehouses.

* * * * *