The tall man was not by any means surprised by the uncourteous answer.  He was used to the homely insolence of the fishermen.  So he said—­

“Well, Thomas, I was young myself once, and I liked to lounge on the Sunday as well as anybody; but it’s God’s Sabbath, and after all, you know, my lad, you are not a pig, and I think you might be doing ever so much better things than lying here.  I am not a bit of a saint, and I am not going to bother you about religion, but it struck me, as I came across the moor, that I was happy, and you are not.  Now I’ll tell you what I am going to do, Thomas—­you won’t throw me over the rock-edge, because I am rather an awkward hand at that sort of thing.  I am going to sit down and have a pipe beside you.  Will you give me a light?”

Tommy could not condescend to a grin, but he observed—­

“Sit down and smoke as many pipes as you like, so long as you leave me alone, Mr. Musgrave.”

Musgrave knew his man, and answered smilingly—­

“But I am not going to sit down to smoke and keep quiet.  I want to have a bit of talk to you; and as soon as I am done I am going to take you with me.  What do you think of that, Thomas?” And thereupon the old man lighted his pipe, and sat smiling for a little and moving his long fingers daintily.  “When the two queer companions had taken puff by puff together for some time, Musgrave said—­

“Thomas, my lad, you are very unhappy.  I am happy, and I think a man has no more right to keep happiness to himself than he has to keep money to himself.  I am going to share with you.  Now, I’m an old fellow that’s got near done with the world, and you are a slashing young chap, and the girls look after you.  But still, though I am parting with the world, and you have got a long time to stay in it, I am better off than you.  The sight of these flowers makes me joyful, but it only seems to make you dour.  Now, shall I tell you how it is that I am so happy?”

“I don’t want to be happy.  What’s that got to do with the thing?  If you tell me that there’s fifty sovereigns buried at the bottom of Lyne Hill there, I’ll go and try to dig the hill away and get at them, because the trouble’s worth taking; but I don’t see the fun of seeking for what you call happiness.”

“Well, then, Thomas, how much do you expect to make by trouting to-night?”

“Well, if there’s any luck, Jem and me will divide fifteen shillings between us.”

“Very good; then I’ll give you seven-and-six-pence now.  Here are your three half-crowns.  Will you come with me?”

The sulky giant smiled sourly and said, “I don’t see why I should not.  Where are you for?”

“Well, I am going to preach at the chapel, Thomas, and I would like you to hear me and walk home with me, and I think that when I have landed you at your house that you won’t be sorry for missing the trouting.”