"A nesh young female," remarked one of the men, as they departed.
"She'd as lief as not ha' gied us some grog if I warn't sech a humble feller of my inches. Hey! theer's a deal lost in this world by modest men like we."
They shambled dolefully down the hill. Half-way down they were met by the boatswain and six seamen from the cutter.
"Ahoy! mates," cried the boatswain, "have ye seen or heard anything of Mr. Mildmay?"
"Neither heerd a cuss nor seed the tip o's nose."
"Ah well, then. I thought you might have, coming along by Mr. Trevanion's house."
"Ha' ye seed or heerd anything o' Maister Polwhele, now?"
"Neither bowsprit nor whistle. No doubt he's with our officer, dancing a hornpipe, or whatever they do at fine gentlemen's parties."
"No, he bean't at Dower House. We've been to call for un. 'A told us he'd jine us on bridge when church-clock strook half-past nine."
"That's curious, because Mr. Mildmay told us the same thing, putting the cutter instead of the bridge. Isn't Mr. Mildmay up there, then?"