“And he won’t want to trample ’pon ’ee, neither.  Only you study un a bit, and you’ll soon learn the measure o’ Adam’s foot.  Why, ’tis only to see un lookin’ at ’ee to tell how he loves ’ee;” and Joan successfully kept down a rising sigh as she added, “Lors! he wouldn’t let a fly pitch ’pon ’ee if he could help it.”

“If he’d seen us before he came in first he’d have surely told you?” said Eve.

“Awh, he hadn’t seen ’ee then,” said Joan, “’cos, though he was a bit vexed, he wasn’t in no temper.  ’Twas after he went out the second time that he must have cast eyes on ’ee some way.  Jerrem wasn’t up to none of his nonsense, was he?” she asked. ’"Cos I knaws what Jerrem is.  He don’t think no more o’ givin’ ‘ee a kiss or that than he does o’ noddin’ his head or crookin’ his elbaw; and if Adam caught un at that, it ’ud be enough for he.”

Eve shook her head.  “Jerrem never takes none of those liberties with me,” she said:  “he knows I won’t allow him to.  The whole of the time we did nothing but talk and walk along till we came to a nice place, and then we stayed for a little while looking at the view together, and after that came back.”

“’Tis more than I can make out, then,” said Joan, “’cos, though I wondered when you set off whether Adam would ‘zactly relish your bein’ with Jerrem, I never thought ’twould put un out like this.”

“It makes me feel so miserable!” said Eve, trying to keep back her tears; “for oh, Joan”—­and she threw her arms round Joan’s neck—­“I do love him very dearly!”

“Iss, my dear, I knaws you do,” returned Joan soothingly, “and he loves you too.”

“Then why can’t we always feel the same, Joan, and be comfortable and kind and pleasant to one another?”

“Oh lors! that ‘ud be a reg’lar milk-and-watter set-out o’ it.  No, so long as you doan’t carry on too far on the wan tack I likes a bit of a breeze now and then:  it freshens ’ee up and puts new life into ’ee.  But here, come along down now, and when Adam comes back seem as if nothin’ had happened, and p’r’aps seein’ you make so light of it ’ull make un forget all about it.”

So advised, Eve dried her eyes and smoothed down her ruffled appearance, and in a short time joined the party below, which now included Uncle Zebedee, Barnabas Tadd and Zeke Teague, who had brought word that the Hart had only that morning returned to Fowey, entirely ignorant of the skirmish which had taken place between the Looe boats and the Lottery, and that, though it was reported that the man shot had been shot dead, nothing was known for certain, as it seemed that the men of Looe station were not over-anxious to have the thing talked about.

“I should think they wasn’t, neither,” chuckled Uncle Zebedee.  “Sneakin’, cowardly lot! they was game enough whiles they was creepin’ up behind, but, lors! so soon as us shawed our faces, and they seed they’d got men to dale with, there was another tale to tell, and no mistake.  I much doubt whether or no wan amongst ’em had ever smelt powder afore our Jerrem here let ’em have a sniff o’ his mixin’.  ’Tis my belief—­and I ha’n’t a got a doubt on the matter, neither—­that if he hadn’t let fly when he did they’d ha’ drawed off and gone away boastin’ that they’d got the best o’ it.”