"I might ha' been a limpet."
"Eh?"
"By the way you prised at me with that knife o' yours. And you call it Providence."
Ben grinned. "Providence or no, you'll get this lad out o' the way, Sarah?"
"H'm?" She considered me. "I can't take him home to Looe."
"Why not?"
"Folks would talk," she said modestly.
"'Od rabbit it!" exclaimed Ben. "He's ten year old; and you were saying just now that the man took ye sudden!"
"Well, I'll see what can be done: but on conditions."
"Conditions?"