“Ay, true; on account of the sea.”
“I can only speak to the man who takes the things aboard.”
“You will tell him, then, to look to the letters.”
“Very well, Mess Lethierry.”
“At what time does the Cashmere sail?”
“At twelve.”
“The tide will flow at noon; she will have it against her.”
“But she will have the wind,” answered the lad.
“Boy,” said Mess Lethierry, pointing with his forefinger at the engine in the sloop, “do you see that? There is something which laughs at winds and tides.”
The boy put the letters in his pocket, took up the handles of the barrow again, and went on his way towards the town. Mess Lethierry called “Douce! Grace!”