"Here, Bill!" he called, carrying one to the door. Returning, he blew at the froth on his own pot meditatively. "And the next thing is, I want a house." "A house?" "'Stonishing echo you keep here. . . . Yes, miss, a house. My name's Jope--Ben Jope--o' the _Vesuvius_ bomb, bo's'un; but paid off at eight this morning. My friend outside goes by the name of Bill Adams; an' you'll find him livelier than he looks. Everyone does. But I forgot; you ha'n't seen him yet, and he can't come in, havin' to look after the cask." "The ca--" Miss Elizabeth had almost repeated the word, but managed to check herself. "You ought to consult someone about it, at your age," said Mr. Jope solicitously. "Yes, the cask. Rum it is, an' a quarter-puncheon. Bill and me clubbed an' bought it off the purser las' night, the chaplain havin' advised us not to waste good prize-money ashore but invest it in something we really wanted. But I don't know if you've ever noticed how often one thing leads to another. You can't go drinkin' out a quarter-puncheon o' rum in the high road, not very well. So the next thing is, we want a house." "But," said the girl, "who ever heard of a house to let hereabouts!" Mr. Jope's face fell. "Ain't there none? An' it seemed so retired, too, an' handy near Plymouth." "There's not a house to let in St. Dilp parish, unless it be the Rectory." Mr. Jope's face brightened. "Then we'll take the Rectory," he said. "Where is it?" "Down by the river. . . . But 'tis nonsense you're tellin'. The Rectory indeed! Why, it's a seat!" Mr. Jope's face clouded. "Oh," he said, "is that all?" "It's a fine one, too." "It'd have to be, to accomydate Bill an' me an' the cask. I wanted a house, as I thought I told ye." "Oh, but I meant a country-seat," explained Miss Elizabeth. "The Rectory is a house." Again Mr. Jope's face brightened. "An' so big," she went on, "that the Rector can't afford to live in it. That's why 'tis to let. The rent's forty pound." "Can I see him?" "No, you can't; for he lives up to Lunnon an' hires Parson Spettigew of Botusfleming to do the work. But it's my father has the lettin' o' the Rectory if a tenant comes along. He keeps the keys." "Then I 'd like to talk with your father." "No you wouldn't," said the girl frankly; "because he's asleep. Father drinks a quart o' cider at three o'clock every day of his life, an' no one don't dare disturb him before six." "Well, I like reggilar habits," said Mr. Jope, diving a hand into his breeches' pocket and drawing forth a fistful of golden guineas. "But couldn't you risk it?" Miss Elizabeth's eyes wavered. "No, I couldn'," she sighed, shaking her head. "Father's very violent in his temper. But I tell you what," she added: "I might fetch the keys, and you might go an' see the place for yourself."