We walk up and down rough steps and along narrow, winding alleys. Shirtliff says he "feels such a bounder, going about staring at everything as if he was at Earl's Court." Thinks the Markeners must hate being treated like a show. _We_ shouldn't like it ourselves! That may be, but, as Pashley retorts, it's the Markeners' own fault. They shouldn't be so beastly picturesque. Fine buxom girl approaches, carrying pail. On closer view, not precisely a girl--in fact, a matron of mature years. These long, brown side-curls deceptive at a distance; impression, as she passes, of a kind of Dutch "Little Toddlekins"; view of broad back and extensive tract of fat, bare neck under small cap. She turns round and intimates by expressive pantomime that her cottage is close by, and if we would care to inspect the interior, we are heartily welcome. Uncommonly friendly of her. Pashley and I are inclined to accept, but Shirtliff dubious--we may have misunderstood her. We really can't go crowding in like a parcel of trippers! Little Toddlekins, however, quite keen about it; sees us hesitate, puts down pail and beckons us on round corner with crooked forefinger, like an elderly Siren. How different this simple, hearty hospitality from the sort of reception foreigners would get from an English fishwife! We can't refuse, or we shall hurt her feelings. "But whatever we do," urges Shirtliff, "we mustn't dream of offering her money. She'd be most tremendously insulted." [Illustration] Of course, we quite understand _that_. It would be simply an outrage. We uncover, and enter, apologetically. Inside, an elderly fisherman is sitting by the hearth mending a net; a girl is leaning in graceful, negligent attitude against table by window. Neither of them takes the slightest notice of us, which is embarrassing. Afraid we really _are_ intruding. However, our hostess--good old soul--has a natural tact and kindliness that soon put us at our ease. Shows us everything. Curtained recesses in wall, where they go to bed. "Very curious--so comfortable!" Delft plates and painted shelves and cupboards. "Most decorative!" Caps and bodices worn by females of the family. "Charming; such artistic colour!" School copybooks with children's exercises. "Capital; so neatly written!" What is she trying to make us understand? Oh, in winter, the sea comes in above the level of the wainscot. "Really! How very convenient!" We don't mean this, but we are so anxious to please and be pleased, that our enthusiasm is degenerating into drivel. Girl by the window contemplates us with growing contempt; and no wonder. High time we went. Little Toddlekins at the end of her tether; looks at us as if to imply that she has done _her_ part. Next move must come from us. Pashley consults us in an undertone. "Perhaps, after all she _does_ expect, eh? What do _we_ think? Would half a gulden---- What?"