Upon the headland, looking seaward, was the youth of whom the girl was in quest. He paid no attention to her as she approached, indeed did not appear to observe her till she named him, when he turned and confronted her.
'What! Winny, the peddler woman's child?'
Somewhat nettled, the girl stiffened her neck. 'It is more honourable to peddle than to lounge,' she said. 'The peddler does something, and if she were away would be missed, but the loafer is no good to any one, and is bad company to himself.'
'You are sharp of tongue,' said the lad, laughing. 'I am an unstrung bow just now. If you had been kept with your nose to a Latin grammar, you would wish to lift it to sniff the sea breeze.'
'Well,' she said, and laughed also, 'I have been idling all the morning, and my work now is no more than to bring you a pair of socks from your father, and with it a message.'
'Thank him from me for the socks.'
'Oh! and no thanks for the message?'
'I have not heard it.'
'Well—he says you are to shut up the Latin grammar for a bit, and sit under David Nutall and take instructions from him.'
An expression of dissatisfaction came over the boy's face.