"Don't like him," continued Uncle Luke, re-baiting quickly and throwing out; "that fellow has got scoundrel written in his face." "For shame! Mr Vine," said Madelaine, laughing. "Mr Pradelle is very gentlemanly and pleasant." "Good-looking scoundrels always are, my dear. But he don't want you. I watched him. Going to throw over the Scotchman and take to Miss Louie?" "Uncle, you've got a bite," said the girl coolly. "Eh? So I have. Got him, too," said the old man, striking and playing his fish just as if he were angling in fresh water. "Thumper." "What pleasure can it give you to say such unpleasant things, uncle?" continued the girl. "Truths always are unpleasant," said the old man, laughing. "Don't bother me, there's a shoal off the point now, and I shall get some fish." "Why, you have all you want now, uncle." "Rubbish! Shall get a few shillings' worth to sell Mother Perrow." "Poor Uncle Luke!" said the girl with mock solemnity; "obliged to fish for his living." "Better than idling and doing nothing. I like to do it, and--There he is again. Don't talk." He hooked and landed another fine bass from the shoal which had come up with the tide that ran like a millstream off the point, when as he placed the fish in the basket he raised his eyes. "Yah! Go back and look after your men. I thought that would be it. Maddy, look at her cheeks." "Oh, uncle, if I did not know you to be the best and dearest of--" "Tchah! Carney!" he cried, screwing up his face. "Look here, I want to catch a few fish and make a little money, so if that long Scot is coming courting, take him somewhere else. Be off!" "If Mr Duncan Leslie is coming to say good-day, uncle, I see no reason why he should not say it here," said Louise, calmly enough now, and with the slight flush which had suffused her cheeks fading out. "Good-day! A great tall sheepish noodle who don't know when he's well off," grumbled the fisher, throwing out once more as a tall gentlemanly-looking young fellow of about eight-and-twenty stepped actively from rock to rock till he had joined the group, raising his soft tweed hat to the ladies and shaking hands. "What a lovely morning!" he said eagerly. "I saw you come down. Much sport, Mr Vine?" he added, as he held out his hand. "No," said Uncle Luke, nodding and holding tightly on to his rod. "Hands full. Can't you see?" "Oh, yes, I see. One at you now." "Thankye. Think I couldn't see?" said the old man, striking and missing his fish. "Very kind of you to come and see how I was getting on." "But I didn't," said the new-comer, smiling. "I knew you didn't want me." "Here, Louie, make a note of that," said Uncle Luke, sharply. "The Scotch are not so dense as they pretend they are." "Uncle!" "Oh, pray don't interpose, Miss Vine. Your uncle and I often have a passage of arms together." "Well, say what you've got to say, and then go back to your men. Has the vein failed?" "No, sir; it grows richer every day."