“You mean the fish, I hope,” said Geoffrey, laughing. “Let’s see; what was I saying? Oh! I know, about doing foolish things. I’ve done a great many in my time, but running after coquettes was never one of them.”
“Nor yet indulging in mine moonshine?”
“Moonshine, eh? Well that brings me to what I was going to say. Now, look here, Uncle Paul.”
“Confound you, sir, don’t stick yourself on to me as a relative. You’ll want to borrow money next.”
“Very likely,” said Geoffrey.
“Ha-ha-ha! he-he-he!” chuckled the old man, with his face lighting up. “I should like to see you doing it. You’re a clever fellow, Master Trethick, but I don’t quite see you getting the better of me there.”
“That’s right,” said Geoffrey. “Now you look yourself again.” Uncle Paul’s face was transformed on the instant by an aspect of wrath, but Geoffrey took no notice, only went on with his breakfast and talked.
“Look here, old gentleman, from what I hear, some fifty thousand pounds went down that Wheal Carnac?”
“Quite. Fool’s money,” said Uncle Paul. “Give me that thick bit of the sole with the roe in.”
“I don’t know about fool’s money,” said Geoffrey, helping him to the choice piece of fish. “Now I’ve had some good looks at that place, and I’m beginning to be convinced that a little enterprise freshly brought to bear would result in good returns.”