“My fäather said get tenpence if ee can, or eightpence if ee can; or sixpence if ee can; just make what ee can. So what’ll ee give for they?”
Long before his return was expected John slouched into the cottage kitchen and threw four pennies on the table. “For they fish,” he said, and walked away to join a knot of idlers on the front.
Old John sighed as he gathered up the coins. He felt very old these days: he wasn’t by no means the man he used to be, and it was very difficult to live.
“Goin’ a-whiffin’ again to-day?” Tommy asked him, and he brought his mind to bear upon the needs of the moment.
“Not whiffin’, but afore tea I must see to my lobster pots,” he replied. “Did ought to get a good catch, too. What be a-goin’ to do, Tommy, when art a grown man? Fishin’?”
Tommy shook his head. “No,” he stated, emphatically. “My Mammy says it do be starvation to put a lad to fishin’ now. I’ll be a p’liceman an’ scare they children bravely, that I will.” Tommy drew himself up in proud anticipation of his authority-to-be.
“Bit lonely, bain’t ee sometimes, Tommy?” was Old John’s next essay.
Tommy did not understand, so Old John tried to make his meaning clear.
“’Twould be nice for ee to have a baby sister to play with an’ look after,” he said. Then he knew that he had blundered.