“Towing line indeed!” she said, looking indignantly over Nelly's bowed head at the men. “Towing line indeed! Why 'tis the loveliest hair in Cornwall.”
“A towing line,” said her father, laughing. “A towing line that has drawn more craft in its wake than any twenty-oared galley of a man-o'-war. Oh, the poor fools that try to get a grip o' that towing line! Let me count them. First there was Spanish Roderick——”
The girl lifted up her head from her friend's shoulder.
“Spanish Roderigo the first!” she cried. “Oh, miller, I did think that my reputation was safe in your keeping! Why, sir, there were three after me long before Roderigo showed his face at the Cove.”
“I ask your pardon, madam; I did you an injustice; you began the towing business when you were twelve——”
“Ten, miller—ten, if you love me. You would not accuse a simple girl of wasting her time.”
“Once again, your pardon, miss. I'll make it nine, if so be that you wish.”
“I have no wish in the matter, sir. I'm nought but a simple country wench with no wish but to be let live in peace.”
“Tell us how many lads are dangling after you at the present moment, Nell—dangling like mackerel on the streamers?”
“How could I possibly tell, sir? Do you suppose that my father knows to a fish how many mackerel are on his cast of streamers at any time? You should have more sense, miller. The most that I can speak for is the five that I angled for.”