“Ah, you want to make your fortune too quick, my lad; that’s plain.”
Dick winked, and went home; and the next day he winked, and went out shrimping again, and caught very few, and went home again, put on his dry clothes, and said:
“Give us the babby.”
Mrs Miggles gave him the “babby,” and Dick took her and nursed her, smiling down at the little thing as she climbed up his chest, and tangled her little fingers in his great beard; while Mrs Miggles gave the few shrimps a pick over and a shake up before she consigned the hopping unfortunates to the boiling bath that should turn them from blackish grey to red.
“What is it, old man?” said Mrs Miggles; “sperrits?”
Fisherman Dick shook his head, and began to sing gruffly to the child about a “galliant” maiden who went to sea in search of her true “lovy-er along of a British crew.”
“What is it, then—lace?”
Fisherman Dick shook his head again, and bellowed out the word “crew,” the little child looking at him wonderingly, but not in the least alarmed.
“I never did see such an oyster as you are, old man,” said Mrs Miggles. “You’re the closest chap in the place.”
“Ay!” said Fisherman Dick; and he went on with his song.