"I'm afraid not, Sam. I'm afraid we shan't spend another Christmas at the Towers."
"Well, then, you and I had better go for sojers or sailors. I'm afeard I bean't high enough for a sojer. But sailors get prize-money, old Joe says, and I'd like that, 'cos then I could buy a thing or two for Maidy Susan—and Mistress, too: I wouldn' forget she. Maybe I'd get killed, fightin' the French, but dear life! it wouldn' matter much: we hain't got many friends. I don't s'pose Maidy Susan 'ud fall more 'n two tears, or maybe three."
"None at all, I should think," said Dick.
"Oh, I don't think so bad o' she as that. When I seed her yesterday she said she wished I could go to Dower House to-night. Maister John be goin' to a randy at Portharvan; he'll kiss his young 'ooman under the mistletoe, I reckon."
"And Susan wants you to go to the Dower House and kiss her, I suppose?"
"Now that's too bad, Maister. We bean't neither of us so forward as that. Maidy said she'd like me to go up-along and gie un some o' my merry talk, but jown me if my tongue 'ud run merry wi' things so bad up to home."
"You couldn't go: Father would never allow it. You'll have to be satisfied with the Vicar's nuts and candy, Sam."
They came to their den at the end of the Beal, and remained there for some little time arranging their tackle in the wan glimmer preceding the dawn. Then they emerged, and climbed up beside the big boulder to take a look at the sea, over which a thin mist hung.
"Isn't that the Isaac and Jacob?" said Dick, pointing to a vessel tacking to make the fairway between the cliff and the reef.
"Iss, sure. Tonkin be come home wi'out a cargo, seemin'ly, unless he hev run it a'ready."