Within the room sat the Squire and Dick, with the Vicar, Mr. Mildmay, and Mr. Polwhele, smoking before a huge log fire. They had started up at the sound of heavy boots clattering along the passage, and stood in amazement as the young fishers, red and blown with running, clumped in.
"What do you mean by this?" exclaimed the Squire testily. "D'you think this is an inn?"
Jake, the foremost, was at once overcome by his habitual sheepishness, and stood as though glued to the floor, twisting his hat between his hands, and grinning vacantly. Ike Pendry thrust him aside.
"Please, sir, I be come——" he began.
"Scrounch 'ee, I was fust!" cried Jake, suddenly recovering his speech, and sticking his elbow into Ike's ribs.
"Now, now," said Mr. Carlyon severely, "this is very unmannerly behaviour. What do you mean by it?"
"Please, yer reverence," said Ike, "theer be great and noble riches down-along at Beal. We be come with all our legs to tell Squire."
"I was fust," added Jake.
"You're a liard," said young Mail, thrusting his way to the front. "I was fust, only Ike Pendry catched me by the tail o' my coat, which he couldn' ha' done if 'twere a common day."
"Well, then, Jabez," said the Vicar, "as you seem to have best command of your breath, perhaps you will tell us the meaning of these antics."