"I wonder they do trust him, though," said Eve, "seeing he's rather silly?"
"Awh! most o' his silly is to serve his own turn. Why, to see un elsewheres you'd say he'd stored up his wits to Polperro, and left 'em here till he gets back agen; and that's how 'tis he ferrets out the things he does, 'cos nobody minds un nor pays no heed to un; and if he does by chance come creepin' up or stand anigh, ''Tis only poor foolish Jonathan,' they says."
CHAPTER XXV.
The sun which came streaming in through the windows next morning seemed the herald of coming joy. Eve was the first to be awakened, and she soon aroused Joan. "It won't make no difference to them because the day's fine," she asked: "will it, Joan?"
"Not a bit: they don't care a dump what the day is, so long as the night's only dark enough; and there'll be no show o' moon this week."
"Oh, I'm so glad!" said Eve, breaking out into a snatch of an old song which had caught her fancy.
"Awh, my dear, don't 'ee begin to sing, not till breakfast is over," exclaimed Joan. "'Sing afore you bite, cry afore night.'"
"Cry with joy perhaps," laughed Eve; still, she hushed her melody and hastened her speed to get quickly dressed and her breakfast over. That done with, the house had to be fresh put in order, while Joan applied herself to the making of various pies and pastries; "For, you see," she said, "if they won't all of 'em be just ready for a jollification this time, and no mistake!"
"And I'm sure they deserve to have one," said Eve, whose ideas of merrymaking were on a much broader scale now than formerly. It was true she still always avoided the sight of a drunken man and ran away from a fight, but this was more because her feelings were outraged at these sights than because her sense of right and wrong was any longer shocked at the vices which led to them.