to propose walking home," said Mr Temple, "and I think
that will be best."

So they were set ashore at the nearest point to the cliff pathway, where
a tramp over the hot rocks with the sunshine streaming down upon his
head, half dried Dick before he got back to their rooms, where the
dinner he ate after a change fully proved that he was none the worse for
this second dip.

"I say, father," he said, "one ought to get used to the sea down here."

"I think so too," said his father smiling; "but, Dick, you must not go
on like this."

"No," said Dick; "it's Taff's turn now;" and he said it in so quietly
serious a manner that his brother half rose from his seat.

"Oh! by the way, Arthur," said Mr Temple, "Dick's accident made me
forget yours. How is the wounded leg?"

"Better, I think," said Arthur, for he had forgotten its existence all
through the walk home.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.

MACK'REL IN THE BAY--AND THE SEINE FAIRPLAY--AND A HAUL FOR OUR WIVES
AND BAIRNS.

If you want to go to a place where the air you breathe seems to till
your veins with joy, and you begin to tingle with a desire to be up and
doing something, go down into Cornwall, where the breeze seems to
sparkle and effervesce like the waves that beat upon the rocky shore,
and from whose crests it bears off the health-giving ozone to mix with
the fragrant scent of the wild thyme and heather of the hills and barren
moors. The sea never looks two days alike: now it is glistening like
frosted silver, now it is as liquid gold. At one time it is ruddy like
wine, at another time rich orange or amber, and a few hours after
intensely blue, as if the sky had fallen or joined it then and there.
Only in storm time is it thick and muddy, as it is in other parts of our
coast, and even then it is not long before it settles down once more to
its crystal purity.

"Ahoy-ay! Ahoy-ay!"

A musical chorus, softened by distance as it came off the sea, awakened
Dick Temple from dreams of boats and mines, and rocks, and caves full of
cuttle-fish, crabs, and seals, so big that they seemed monsters of the
deep.

The window was open, for he had left it so when he had scrambled out of
his clothes and jumped into bed.

Then Arthur, who was calmly folding his garments, or rather his
brother's, had quietly gone across the room and shut the window.

"The night air is dangerous," he said.

"No, it isn't," said Dick. "It's all fancy."

"I wish the window to be shut," s