'I understand you. You speak as I feel about my Jack. I am a rough old sea-dog, and I have been—I won't say what. But all I have saved is for my Jack. I shall make a gentleman of him. All my thoughts are on my Jack.' He touched his breast with the end of his bow. 'When you talk like that, Jane, you touch a chord here as begins to chime. You and your kid shall remain here. I am getting old, and require a woman to mind the house. As to the pay—we will talk of that to-morrow.'
She caught his hand and kissed it.
'Nay,' said he, 'don't thank me. It is the fellow-feeling as does it. I am a father with one child, and you a mother also with one—that is it, woman, that is it.'
CHAPTER IV
THE UNDERCLIFF
The rain and easterly wind ceased towards dawn. When morning broke a haze hung over sea and land that slowly lifted but never wholly vanished, and left the landscape bathed in the wan sunshine of November, the smile of a dying year.
Jane Marley was afoot early, and went to work immediately. She did what was necessary undirected, lighted the fire, made the kettle boil, and had cleared away the untidy remains of the past day's occupation of the room.
When Job Rattenbury came down from his room above and found every preparation made for breakfast, then an expression of satisfaction came over his rugged face.
'Right and fitting,' said he. 'For myself I do not care, but I must think of Jack. He does not like to see his dad make the fire and clean the boots. He wants to do it himself, and we have had a tussle over it. Jack is obstinate. Says Jack, "Father, I will not have it. You're not my fag. I'll clean my own boots or wear 'em dirty all day." I say, "There is the difference between us. I was never brought up to be a gentleman, but it is my intent and ambition that you shall be." And now, Jane Marley, go on as you have begun, and we shall not get across. I'm a rough customer when things go against the grain. You are not one to stand pulling your apron and asking "Please, what next?" but buckle to work at once. I want Jack to be comfortable when he comes home, and I must provide that there be none of the little awkwardnesses there have been when he refuses to let his old dad make his bed, and sew on his waistcoat buttons, and wash the dishes. Stay here you may, you and the kid, so long as you both conduct yourselves.'