“Poor soul!” said a woman on the outskirts, who had overheard. There was a half-sob in her voice.
Jack Chorley looked at her angrily. “Damn!” he said, and vindictively hit at a fly that was trying to settle on his nose.
As the clock chimed a quarter past four the sale was ending. Slowly Tommy trailed along the street to his Mammy and his home. Seeing the crowd on the quay he turned aside to find out its cause.
“Daddy,” he shouted, “oh, Daddy!”
Heedless of mooring-ropes and slippery bits of fish he ran and stumbled, stumbled and ran, towards the “Light of Home.”
“Daddy, oh, Daddy!” he sobbed, and reached the edge of the quay.
Tregennis stretched out his arms, lifted him into the lugger and held him tight. Again there was a woman’s sob and the air was tense.
“Have a bib for your tea, my son,” said Uncle Jack, and laughed rather uncertainly as he held up to him a little fish, something between a pollock and a whiting.
“An’ here be two plate-ray to take home to your Mammy,” added Billy Dark, who was young and unmarried, “an’ happen you’d best take your Daddy along too.”
Once more the crowd parted and Tommy and his Daddy passed through.