"Speak out, then, quickly, for I am busy," said Penelly, who, while in
an ordinary way ready enough to chat and laugh with the fishermen, was
at times, on the strength of his father's position as a boat-owner,
disposed to treat them as several degrees lower in social standing.

"Busy, eh?" said Zekle scornfully. "I dessay you are; but you mus'n't
be too busy to talk to me."

"What do you mean?" said Penelly hotly. "How dare you speak to me in
that insolent way?"

"Insolent, eh?" said the man. "Ah! you call that insolent, do you?" he
continued, raising his voice. "What would you call it, then, if I was
to speak out a little plainer?"

"Look here, Zekle Wynn," said Penelly; "there are times when I come down
to the harbour, and into the boats, and go fishing with the men; but
recollect, please, whom you are talking to."

"Oh, I know who I'm talking to," said Zekle; "I ain't blind."

"If you speak to me again like that I'll kick you out of the house. How
dare you come in here and address me in this way?"

"Where's your father?" said Zekle; "suppose I talk to him."

"Go and talk to him, then; and mind how you speak, sir, or you'll get
different treatment to that you receive from me."

"All right, then!" said Zekle mockingly. "I shall go to him and tell
him that, while I was busy shaking out fish in our boat to-night, young
Harry Paul come swimming up, and our mas'r says, `Come aboard,' he says;
but Mas'r Harry Paul he says, `No,' he says, `I shall swim round,' he
says, and he swims round our boat."

"Well, he knows that," said Penelly, looking at him strangely.

"And then I'm going to tell him," continued Zekle, "that as soon as ever
a certain person who was aboard our boat sees young Mas'r Harry coming,
he goes and sits on the other side."

"Yes, I did," said Penelly sharply.

"Oh, you did, did you? You owns to that?"

"Of course," replied Penelly scornfully. "What then?"

"What then? Ah! I'll soon tell you what then," said Zekle. "You ups
with an armful of net, and just as young Harry Paul comes round under
you, you drops it on top of his head."

"Hush!"

Mark Penelly sprang at the speaker and clapped his hand over his lips.

"I thought," said Zekle, freeing himself, "that it was only for a bit of
mischief; I'd forgot all about young Mas'r Harry; but now I know as you
did it to drown--"

"Hush!" cried Penelly again hoarsely, and his face was like ashes. "I
didn't; indeed I did not, Zek