aped on shore to fend off the boat, so that he lost the
greeting she would have given him.

"You have had a good haul with the nets to-night, father," she said,
looking into the baskets; "Granny and I can scarce carry half of them to
market, and unless Abel Mawgan the hawker comes in time to buy them, you
and Michael will have work to do to salt them down."

"It is well that we should have had a good haul, Nelly, for dirty
weather is coming on, and it may be many a day before we are able to
cast our nets again," answered Paul, looking up affectionately at his
child, while he began with a well-practised hand to stow the boat's
sail.

Nelly meantime was filling her creel with fish, that she might lessen
the weight of the baskets which her father and Michael had to lift on
shore. As soon as it was full she stepped back on the rock, giving a
kiss to Michael as she passed him.

The baskets were soon landed, and the creel being filled, she and Nelly
ascended the hill, followed by Paul and Michael, who, carrying the
baskets between them, brought up the remainder of the fish.

Breakfast, welcome to those who had been toiling all night, had been
placed ready on the table, and leaving Paul and his boy to discuss it,
Polly Lanreath, as the old dame was generally called, and her little
granddaughter, set off on their long journey over the downs to dispose
of their fish at Helston, or at the villages and the few gentlemen's
houses they passed on their way. It was a long distance for the old
woman and girl to go, but they went willingly whenever fish had been
caught, for they depended on its sale for their livelihood, and neither
Paul nor Michael could have undertaken the duty, nor would they have
sold the fish so well as the dame and Nelly, who were welcomed whenever
they appeared. Their customers knew that they could depend on their
word when they mentioned the very hour when the fish were landed.

The old dame's tongue wagged cheerfully as she walked along with Nelly
by her side, and she often beguiled the way with tales and anecdotes of
bygone days, and ancient Cornish legends which few but herself
remembered. Nelly listened with eager ears, and stored away in her
memory all she heard, and often when they got back in the evening she
would beg her granny to recount again for the benefit of her father and
Michael the stories she had told in the morning.

She had a cheerful greeting, too, for all she met; for some she had