, is not known. Noo, we better
shump up."

In a few minutes the waggonette was rattling down the slopes that led to
Cove, and soon afterwards they were exchanging greetings with old Ian
Anderson, the fisherman.

"Iss it to fush, ye'll be wantin'?" asked Ian, as he ushered the party
into his cottage, where Mrs Anderson was baking oat-cakes, and Aggy was
busy knitting socks with her thin fingers as deftly and rapidly as if
she had been in robust health.

"Yes, that is our object to-day," said Mabberly. "Good-day, Mrs
Anderson; good-day, Aggy. I'm glad to see you looking so much better,
though I can't see very well for your cottage is none of the lightest,"
he said, glancing at the small window, where a ragged head, with a
flattened white nose, accounted for the obscurity.

"There might be _more_ light," said Ian, seizing a thick thorn stick,
and making a sudden demonstration towards the door, the instant effect
of which action was an improvement in the light. It did not last long,
however, for "Tonal'," after watching at the corner of the cottage long
enough to make sure that the demonstration was a mere feint, returned to
his post of observation.

"Yes, sir," remarked Mrs Anderson; "Aggy is much better. The fresh air
is doin' her cood already, an' the peels that the shentleman--your
friend--gave her is workin' wonders."

"They usually do, of one sort or another," returned Mabberly, with a
peculiar smile. "I'm glad they happen to be wonders of the right sort
in Aggy's case. My friend has been out in India, and his prescriptions
have been conceived in a warm climate, you see, which may account for
their wonder-working qualities. Can we have your boat to-day, Mr
Anderson?"

"Oo, ay; ye can hev that, sir," said Ian, summoning Donald to his
presence with a motion of his finger. "Tonal'," he said, when ragged
head stood at the open door, "hev we ony pait?"

"Ay, plenty."

"Co doon, then, an' git the poat ready."

The boy disappeared without reply--a willing messenger. A few minutes
more, and Ivor and Ian were rowing the boat towards a part of the sea
which was deemed good fishing ground, while the rest of the party busied
themselves arranging the lines.

Strong brown lines they were, wound on little square wooden frames, each
with a heavy leaden sinker and a couple of strong coarse hooks of
whitened metal attached to the lines by stout whipcord; for the denizens
of those western waters were not the pod