“Yes, sir, upon the cliff.”
“And you have a mother living?”
“Yes, sir, she is all I have, except old Peggy, for my father was lost at sea.”
“And what is your calling, my lad?”
“I fish for the market boats, and then I carry the mail once each week along the coast.”
“In a boat, of course?”
“Yes, sir, in my surf-skiff.”
“Do you get liberal pay for this work, may I ask?”
“Not very, sir, for with the mail carrying and my fish-selling I average about fifty dollars a month.”
“But your mother has other means of support?”