"Harry's a good affectionate brother, and I love him very dearly," said Louise, firmly; "and he's your brother's son, uncle, and in your heart you love him too, and you're proud of him as proud can be." "You're a silly young goose, and as feather-brained as he is. Proud of him? Bah! I wish he'd enlist for a soldier, and get shot." "For shame, uncle!" cried Louise indignantly; and her face flushed too as she caught and held her companion's hand. "Yes. For shame! It's all your aunt's doing, stuffing the boy's head full of fantastic foolery about his descent, and the disgrace of trade. And now I am speaking, look here," he cried, turning sharply on the fair girl, and holding his rod over her as if it were a huge stick which he was about to use. "Do you hear, Madelaine?" "I'm listening, Mr Vine," said the girl, coldly. "I've known you ever since you were two months old, and your silly mother must insist upon my taking hold of you--you miserable little bit of pink putty, as you were then, and fooled me into being godfather. How I could be such an ass, I don't know--but I am, and I gave you that silver cup, and I've wanted it back ever since." "Oh, uncle, what a wicked story!" cried Louise, laughing. "It's quite true, miss. Dead waste of money. It has never been used, I'll swear." "No, Mr Vine, never," said Madelaine, smiling now. "Ah, you need not show your teeth at me because you're so proud they're white. Lots of the fisher-girls have got better. That's right, shut your lips up, and listen. What I've got to say is this: if I see any more of that nonsense there'll be an explosion." "I don't know what you mean," said Madelaine, colouring more deeply. "Yes you do, miss. I saw Harry put his arm round your waist, and I won't have it. What's your father thinking about? Why, that boy's no more fit to be your husband than that great, ugly, long, brown-bearded Scotchman who poisons the air with his copper-mine, is to be Louie's." "Uncle, you are beyond bearing to-day." "Am I? Well then, be off. But you mind, Miss Maddy, I won't have it. You'll be silly enough to marry some day, but when you do, you shall marry a man, not a feather-headed young ass, with no more brains than that bass. Ah, I've got you this time, have I?" He had thrown in again, and this time struck and hooked a large fish, whose struggles he watched with grim satisfaction, till he drew it gasping and quivering on to the rock--a fine bass, whose silver sides glistened like those of a salmon, and whose sharp back fin stood up ready to cut the unwitting hand. "Bad for him, Louie," said the old man with a laugh; "but one must have dinners, eh? What a countenance!" he continued, holding up his fish; "puts me in mind of that fellow you have up at the house--what's his name, Priddle, Fiddle?" "Pradelle, uncle." "Ah, Pradelle. Of course he's going back too." "Yes, uncle."