reading the letter aloud. "It costs a man a working day, with their gallons and sixpences, to find out of how much they mean to rob him at the end of it."
"Item, 2 ankers of colouring stuff at 4 gallons per anker, price as usual. The place to be as before, under Rope Hauen, east side of Blackhead, unless warned: and a straight run. Come close in, any wind but easterly, and can load up horses alongside. March 24th or 25th will be best, night tides suiting, and no moon. Horses will be there: two fenced lights, pilchard-store and beach, showing S ¼ E to E S E. Get them in line. Same pay for freighting, and crew 17l. per man, being a straight run."
"And little enough," was my father's comment.
"Item, 15 little wooden dolls, jointed at the knees and elbows, the same as tante Yvonne used to sell for two sols at Saint Pol de Léon."
"'Fifteen little wooden dolls'! 'Fifteen little woo—'." My father dropped into his chair, and sat speechless, opening and shutting his mouth like a fish.
"It is here in black and white," said my mother. I found the letter, years after, in her kist. It was written, as were all the letters we received from this Cornish venturer, in a woman's hand, small and delicate, with upstrokes like spider's thread; written in French, too, quite easy and careless. My mother held it close to the window. "'Fifteen little wooden dolls,'" she repeated, "'jointed at the knees and elbows.'"
"Well, I've gone to sea with all sorts, from
