This appears to be the normal condition of fisher-folk, who would seem to require to make use of an excessive amount of moral and physical suasion in order suitably to impress their offspring.
“Now, Jess,” said Gaff, leading his son by the hand; “let’s set to work at once wi’ that there letter.”
“What’s all the hurry, Stephen?”
“I’ve just seed my old shipmate, Haco Barepoles, an’ it’s not unlikely he’ll be ready for sea day arter to-morrow; so the sooner we turn this little job out o’ hands the better. Come, Tottie, you’re a good girl; I see you’ve purvided the paper and ink. Get the table cleaned, lass, and you, Billy, come here.”
The Bu’ster, who had suddenly willed to have a shy at the household cat with a small crab which he had captured, and which was just then endeavouring vainly to ascend the leg of a chair, for a wonder did not carry out his will, but went at once to his sire.
“Whether would ye like to go play on the beach, lad, or stop here and hold the blottin’-paper while we write a letter?”
Billy elected to hold the blotting-paper and watch proceedings, being curious to know what the letter was to be about.
When all was ready—the table cleared of everything except what pertained to the literary work then in hand—Stephen Gaff sat down at one end of the table; his wife drew her chair to the other end; Tottie, feeling very proud and rather nervous, sat between them, with a new quill in her hand, and a spotless sheet of foolscap before her. The Bu’ster stood by with the blot-sheet, looking eager, as if he rather wished for blots, and was prepared to swab them up without delay.
“Are ye ready, Tot?” asked Gaff.
“Yes, quite,” answered the child.