“No, miss, only for rikkration, like.”
“Then what do you do?”—she was getting curious on the point.
“Times I does nothing; times I stands on the beach and sees things; times I runs cheeses, miss.”
“Run cheeses!”
“Yes, miss, Dutch ones.”
“He means that he brings cargoes of Dutch cheeses to Harwich.”
“Oh!” said Eva.
Ernest paid the man, and they turned to go. She had not gone many yards when she felt a heavy hand laid upon her shoulder. Turning round in astonishment, she perceived the mariner.
“I say, miss,” he said, in a hoarse whisper.
“Well, what?”