Leslie could not help laughing at the woman’s impudence, but he said nothing, only went into the house and returned with a pint bottle filled with the potent spirit.
“And bless you for it, Master Leslie!” cried Poll Perrow, with her eyes sparkling. “Now, sir, only one little thing more.”
“No,” said Leslie, sternly. “I have given you what you asked; now go.”
“I only want you to put in a word for me to Master Luke, sir. Don’t let him speak to the coastguard.”
“Don’t be alarmed; the old man is too good-hearted to do anything of the kind. But I should advise you to give up all such practices. There, good-day.”
“Good-day, and bless you, my son!” cried Poll eagerly. “I shan’t forget this.”
“I was foolish to give it to her,” said Leslie to himself, as he watched the woman’s slowly retiring figure; and then he turned his eyes in the direction of the Vines’, as it stood peaceful and bright-looking on its shelf by the cliff, across the intervening valley.
“Might venture to-night. Surely they would not think it intrusive? Yes; I will.”
Duncan Leslie felt better after coming to this determination, and went busily about his work at the mine.
Poll Perrow went straight down into the little town and then up the path at the back, trudging steadily along and at a very good pace, till she saw about fifty yards in front a figure going in the same direction.