“I could go on a King’s ship”

“And get bullied to death for nothing a day.”

“The free-trading my mother won’t hear of.”

“Crais b’en!”

“Why, I don’t know—.”

“Never mind why.  She has her reasons without doubt.”

“So there’s nothing for it but the privateering.”

“B’en!  Why couldn’t you say so without boxing the compass, mon gars? 
Privateering is the biggest chance nowadays.  Of course, the risks—.”

“That’s nothing if it brings me to Carette, Aunt Jeanne—.”

“Well, then?”

“I wish you’d tell me something.”

“What, then?” she asked warily.

“I get a bit afraid sometimes that Carette is not intended for a plain common Sercqman.  Has M. Le Marchant views—­”

“Shouldn’t be a bit surprised, mon gars.  I know I would have if she were mine.  But, all the same, it is Carette herself will have the final say in the matter, and meanwhile—­well, the more she learns the better.  Isn’t it so?”

“Surely.  The more one learns the better, unless—­”

“Yes, then?”

“Well, unless it makes one look down on one’s friends.”

“Do you look down on your mother?  And do you look down on me?  Yet I’ll be bound you think you know a sight more than both of us put together.”

“No, I don’t.  But—­”

“And yet you’ve had more learning than ever came our way.”

“Of a kind.  But—­”

“Exactly, mon gars!  And that other is the learning that doesn’t come from books.  And all your learning and Carette’s will only prepare you for these other things.  With all your learning you are only babies yet.  The harder tasks are all before you.”

“And you think I may hope for Carette, Aunt Jeanne?”

“If you win her.  But you’ll have to stir yourself, mon gars.”

“I’ve sometimes wondered—­” I began doubtfully, and stopped, not knowing how she might take my questioning.

“Well, what have you wondered?” and she peered at me with her head on one side like a robin’s.

“Well—­you see—­she is so different from the others over there on Brecqhou.”

“Roses grow among thorns.”

“Yes, I know—­”

“Very well!...  All the same, you are right, mon gars.  She is different—­and with reason.  Her mother was well-born.  She was daughter to old Godefroi of St. Heliers, the shipowner.  Jean was sailing one of his ships.  It was not a good match nor a suitable one.  The old man turned them out, and Jean came here with her and his boys and settled on Brecqhou.  It is as well you should know, for it may come into the account.  Jean would make her into a lady like her mother.  For me, I would like to see her an honest man’s wife—­that is, if he’s able to keep her.”

“I’m for the privateering,” I said, jumping up as briskly as if I’d only to walk aboard.

“I’ll wish you luck and pray for it, my boy.”