fifty yards, and then enters a neat
cottage facing it.

"Back again all safe, Jack?"

"All right, mother! It's been a fine night, with just enough wind, and
not too much. I ought to have been in half an hour ago, but tide is late
this morning."

"Lily brought word, just as she was starting for school, that the boats
were coming up the creek, so your breakfast is all ready."

"And so am I, mother; though I had a piece of bread and cheese when we
dropped anchor. I will just wash my hands, and be ready in a jiffey."

Mrs. Robson was a native of Leigh. Her father had been a fisherman, who
had owned his own bawley; indeed, most of the boats at Leigh are the
property of one of the men who work them.

Bessy Tripper--not that her real name was Tripper, but Snow; but her
father for some unknown reason got the nickname of Tripper, and his sons
and daughters were also called by it, and would hardly have answered if
addressed as Snow--was one of the prettiest girls in Leigh; so thought
William Robson, a young artist, who came down to Leigh to spend the
summer there, sketching the picturesque boats as they came in and out,
or lay, with their heads pointing all round the compass, on the soft
mud.

He had taken lodgings at Tripper's house, and when not at work with his
brush spent much of his time on board the _Enterprise_. Bessy Tripper
was a conspicuous figure in the foreground of many of his sketches, and
occupied as prominent a place in his thoughts. She was as sweet-tempered
as she was pretty, and at last Will Robson made up his mind to marry her
if she would take him. He was himself an orphan, and had no friends who
had any right to object to his marrying according to his fancy, and he
could therefore do as he pleased without question or comment. Bessy
Tripper was quite ready to take him when he asked her, and they were
married at the church at the top of the hill, and went to live at a
little cottage near Dulwich.

William Robson was no genius; he had the knack of painting pretty marine
sketches in water-colours. These sold readily, but at low prices; and
although he was always talking of doing a great picture in oils that was
to make his fortune, the picture never was painted. He was always too
busy at what he called pot-boilers, which had to be sold to dealers for
a trifle, in order to enable him to meet the butcher's and baker's
bills. He never repented his marriage; Bessy was an admirable housewife,
and made a sh