mouth, and emitting puffs
of smoke, the old gentleman was busy with some strips of matting tying
up the heavy blossoms of carnations to some neatly cut sticks. So
intent was he upon his occupation that the two lads stood gazing at him
for a few minutes before he rose up, emitting a long puff of smoke, and
turned round to nod shortly at Will, and stare severely at the new-comer
in a stolid manner peculiarly his own.

"What cheer?" he said slowly.

"Uncle, this is a young gentleman just come down from town."

"To Peter Churchtown, eh?" said the old gentleman, pulling down his buff
waistcoat with the brass crown-and-anchor buttons, and passing one hand
over his chin to make sure whether his grey beard did not look stubbly.

"Yes, sir; my father has come down on mining business," said the lad
eagerly, "and we're going to stay."

"Glad to see you, sir, glad to see you," said the old gentleman, holding
out an enormous gnarled hand, whose back was covered with great veins,
and faintly showed through its ruddy-brown a blue tattooed figure of a
mermaid.

"He's going fishing with Josh and me this evening; we're going to lay
the bolter from the boat."

"Quite right!" said the old gentleman, nodding. "Nice evening for
fishing. You'll get some flat-fish, I daresay."

"And," said Will, making an effort, and speaking hoarsely in his
eagerness to make a clean breast, "I asked him if he'd come home and
have tea with me before we go."

The old gentleman winced for a moment, as he might have winced in the
old days when, as purser, he inspected his stores on a long voyage, and
feared that they were running short. It was but for a moment, and then
he recovered himself.

"Asked him to tea? that's well, that's right, my lad. I'm glad to see
you, sir. Do you like flowers?"

"I love them," cried the boy, who was gazing half wonderingly at the old
man's florid face, and its frame of stiff grey hairs.

"Then you shall have one of my best clove-pinks," he went on, taking his
great pruning-knife from his pocket. "Let me see," he continued,
opening the blade slowly, "which is the best? Ah! that's a good one--
that's a beauty--there!"

He stooped down, and after a good deal of selection cut a splendid
aromatic clove-pink, and handed it smiling to the boy, who smelt it and
placed it in the button-hole of his loose flannel jacket.

"It's a beauty," he cried.

"Yes, isn't it?" said the old man proudly. "Don't get such flower