“Ay,” said the grey-haired old fellow, “that they would. Why, I done it when I was fourteen and a half.”
“Mark. Penelly says as you’re the biggest coward as ever stepped,” said another maliciously.
“Oh! never you mind what Mark Penelly says, Master Harry,” said the grey-haired man. “He’s jealous; that’s about what he is. He’s ’feared you’ll go and do the dive better than him. And it’s my opinion, seeing what a swimmer you are, as you would beat him all to fits.”
“So I think,” said another, who had not yet spoken; and he winked at his companions as he thrust his hands a little farther down into his capacious pockets.
“Go on, and do it to-night, Master Harry,” said the old fellow. “Don’t you be bet. The tide’s just right for it, and if I was you I’d just show Mark Penelly as he knows nothing about it.”
The young man went on calmly divesting himself of his outer clothing while this talk went on, and though there was a slight flush on his cheeks he did not speak a word.
“He’ll do it,” said the man with his hands in his pockets. “He’ll do it; you see if he don’t. Mas’r Harry’s made up his mind. He’s just made up his mind, he have, and he’s going to do it.”
“I’ll lay a ounce o’ baccy he does it better than Mark Penelly. I wish he was here to see him do it.”
“Ay, to be sure,” said the old grey-haired man. “He’s going to do it—now aren’t you, Mas’r Harry? I feel kinder quite glad of it, lad, for I taught you to swim.”
“To be sure you did, Tom Genna,” said the young man, smiling, “and I hope I haven’t disgraced my master.”