'Weel, 'oman—that is, ma leddy—ye'll be Lee's guidwife, I suppose?'
'Wrang this time, for ance; but what want ye, laddie, and fas [whose] bonny boat ha'e ye gotten beneath you?'
'This is the boat, ma'am, that Maister Blake ordered weeks ago. An' we've brocht her roun', and that's a' there is aboot it. Hiv ye a dram in the camp?'
'Oh, here comes Mr Blake himself, laddie.'
Antony's eyes were sparkling with pleasure. He took Lotty by the hand—she had been standing on the beach near to the boat's bow, which was now broadside to the shore—and led her aft, pointing as he did so to the boat's stern; and there, in well-scrolled letters of vermilion and gold were the words—
'THE NEW JENNY WREN.'
The heart of that gipsy lass was too full to permit her to speak and thank the donor. But her blue eyes were aglow and her cheeks had flushed a deeper pink, and Antony knew what she would have liked to say. That was enough.
While the three stood talking there, Biffins Lee came hurrying towards them. He looked admiringly at the bran-new boat all over, then, turning towards Antony, thanked him most profusely.
'Pon my word,' he said, 'a most charming present. Must have cost you a pot of money.' He glanced at the boat again. 'Really a handsome—er—property, Mr Blake.'
'My good Mr Lee,' was the reply, 'I'm glad you admire the shape and my taste; but as to a property, friend, take my word for it that no one shall ever own or touch her save Lotty Lee herself.'