The poultices certainly soothed, though they did not cure, the sufferer. This fact Ralph painfully discovered during the long hours of the night. His limbs were weary, and though the floor at the foot of the coastguard's bed was hard, he yearned heartily for rest. But the poor invalid, by whose side the son snored obdurately, hourly implored relief. Faithful to his word, the nurse, uprose at intervals and put fresh leaves in the stewpan, warming them on a rustic stove till soft enough for use. This lasted till day dawn. Then the lad went forth a-shrimping, and Ralph decided to refresh himself with a plunge in the sea. Washing utensils, he had discovered, were unknown in Cezambre.
He was speeding down the garden in bathing suit when he caught a glimpse of his purple dolphin riding the waves.
"I squeezed myself out of the window so as not to wake you," she spluttered, through the surf. "I thought, mon cheri, you would repose for ever."
"The old man is very thankful to you for your prescription." He avoided the confession of his night's unrest. "We must gather some more of those herbs to-day."
"Perhaps, but not till evening. You don't know that we must hide. There may come strangers for trips on boats from St Servan, and one is never sure."
"Your people?"
"Oh no; they would do nothing so roturier—English and Americans——"
"They would not know us; you forget what a good gamin my noble lady makes."
"I did forget," she chuckled. "I will dig potatoes, and you may take the boy to the other side of the island. The strangers only go there to stare one moment at the rocks and cry 'Oh!'"
When at midday the trippers landed at Cezambre, they saw no one but an urchin bent double over a spade. His face was covered with mud, some of which was also spattered on the floss silk of his hair.