“Do, uncle,” said Louise.
“Shan’t,” he snarled, stooping to pick up his heavy basket.
“But it’s Harry’s last—”
“Good job too,” snarled the old man.
“I’m going your way, Mr Luke Vine,” said Leslie. “Let me carry the basket.”
“Thank ye; I’m not above carrying my own fish,” said the old man sharply; and he raised and gave the basket a swing to get it upon his back, but tottered with the weight, and nearly fell on the uneven rocks.
“There, it is too heavy for you,” said Leslie, taking possession of the basket firmly; and Louise Vine’s eyes brightened.
“Be too heavy for you when you get as old as I am,” snarled the old man.
“I dare say,” said Leslie quietly; and they went off together.
“Luke’s in fine form this afternoon,” said Van Heldre, nodding and smiling.