“Don’t be hard on a poor woman,” said Poll. “It was only for hiding a few kegs of brandy for a poor man.”
“Yes, and you’re doing it again. I shall just say a word to the coastguard, and tell them to have an eye on some of the caves yonder.”
“No, no; don’t, Master Luke, sir,” cried the woman, rising excitedly, and making the shells in her basket rattle. “You wouldn’t be so hard as to get me in trouble.”
“There, Leslie,” he said with a merry laugh; “am I right? Nice, honest creature this! Cheating the revenue. If it was not for such women as this, the fishermen wouldn’t smuggle.”
“But it doesn’t do any one a bit of harm, Master Luke, sir. You won’t speak to the coastguard.”
“Indeed, but I will,” cried Uncle Luke; “and have you punished. If you had been honest your daughter wouldn’t have been charged with stealing down at my brother’s.”
“And a false charge too,” cried the woman, ruffling up angrily. Then changing her manner, “Now, Master Luke, you wouldn’t be so hard. Don’t say a word to the coastguard.”
“Not speak to them? Why time after time I’ve seen you going off after some game.”
“And more shame for you to watch. I didn’t spy on you when you were down the town of a night, and I used to run against you in the dark lanes by the harbour.”
Uncle Luke started up with his stick in his hand, and a curious grey look in his face.