Uncle Abram took his pipe out of his mouth and scratched the side of his nose with it very softly, as he looked out through the window, and its climbing-roses, to sea.

Mrs Marion had gone into Corntown marketing; Arthur was up the cliff reading in a snug corner he affected; Mr Temple had gone out alone along the cliff “on an exploring trip,” he had said with a smile; and Will was down with Josh at the lugger “overhauling,” as Josh called it, which meant running over the nets previous to a visit to the pilchard ground.

Dick was just going to join them when Uncle Abram, who was fumigating his rose-trees and enjoying his pipe at the same time, made him a signal, as he called it, and asked him if he would like to see Will’s room.

“Well,” said the old man, after a good deal of scratching with the red waxed end of his tobacco pipe.

“I s’pose you’re right, Master Richard, sir. I say don’t tell Will, because he’s so modest like, and don’t want people to know; and, I say, don’t tell his aunt, because she’s so particular like with him, and if she know’d all, she’d think he was neglecting his regular work, and that if he could find time, you see, for doing this sort of thing, he could be doing more to the boats. But I don’t see why your brother should not know, and I don’t hold with a lad keeping anything from his father.”

“And who wants to keep anything from his father?” said Mr Temple, who was just passing the window on his return. “What is it?” he continued, entering the room.

“Oh, nothing, sir; only I was going to show Master Richard here our Will’s room, and I was asking him to be a bit secret like for the lad’s sake. Mrs Marion, you see, is a—”

“Oh, yes, I understand,” said Mr Temple. “May I come too?”

“If you please, sir,” said the old man smiling. “It’s in your way rather, you see, both of you being a bit fond of chip-chopping stones; not that there’s many up there now, for you see his aunt makes the lad clear ’em away now and then. Won’t have the litter, she says. But I’ve got ’em all in a box down in my toolshed, where the boy can have ’em when he likes.”

“Let’s go and see his room, then,” said Mr Temple, smiling.