In the evening Mark set to work to shave another and somewhat longer pole for the new mast, and Bevis took the sails and some more canvas to Frances. He was not long gone, and when he returned said that Frances had promised to do the work immediately. “Did you do the cat and mouse?” said Mark. “Did you stare?” “I stared,” said Bevis, “but there were some visitors there--” “Stupes?” “Stupes, so I couldn’t get on very well. She asked me what I was looking at, and if she wasn’t all right--” “She meant her flounces; she thinks of nothing but her flounces. Some of the things are called gores.” “But I began about the rifle, and she said perhaps, but she really had no influence with Jack.” “O!” said Mark with a snort. “Another buster.” “And she couldn’t think why you didn’t come home. She had forgiven you a long time, and you were always unkind to her, and she was always forgiving you.” “Busters,” said Mark. “She’s on telling stories from morning to night.” “I don’t see why you should be afraid of her; she can’t hurt you.” “Not hurt me! Why if you’ve done anything--it’s niggle-niggle, niggle-naggle, and she’ll play you every nasty trick, and set the Old Moke on to look cross; and then when Jack comes, it’s ‘Mark, dear Mark,’ and wouldn’t you think she was a sweet darling who loved her brother!” Mark tore off a shaving. “One thing though,” he added. “Won’t she serve Jack out when he’s got her and obliged to have her. As if I didn’t know why she wants me to come home. All she wants is to send some letters to him.” “Postman. I see,” said Bevis. “But I’ll go,” said Mark. “I’ll go and fetch the sails to-morrow. I should like to see the jolly Old Moke; and don’t you see? if I take the letters she’ll be pleased and get the rifle for us.” It was exceedingly disrespectful of Mark to speak of his governor as the Old Moke; his actual behaviour was very different to his speech, for in truth he was most attached to his father. The following afternoon Mark walked over and got the sails, and as he had guessed Frances gave him a note for Jack, which he had to deliver that evening. They surprised the donkey; Mark mounted and rode off. Bevis went on with the mast and the new gaff and bowsprit, and when Mark got back about sunset he had the new mast and rigging fitted up in the shed to see how it looked. The first time they made a mast it took them a long while, but now, having learned exactly how to do it, the second had soon been prepared. The top rose above the beam of the shed, and the mainsail stretched out under the eave. “Hoist the peak up higher,” said the governor. Being so busy they had not heard him come. “Hoist it up well, Mark.” Mark gave another pull at the halyard, and drew the peak, or point of the gaff, up till it stood at a sharp angle. “The more peak you can get,” said the governor, “the more leverage the wind has, and the better she will answer the rudder.”