Uncle Luke was already pointing at the door, towards which the woman moved unwillingly. "Let me come up to-morrow and ask you, Mr Luke, sir. Perhaps you'll be in a better temper then." "Better temper!" he cried wrathfully. "I'm always in a better temper. Because I refuse to ruin myself by having your great, idle girl to eat me out of house and home, I'm not in a good temper, eh? There, be off! or I shall say something unpleasant." "I'm a-going, sir. It's all because I wouldn't buy half a fish, as I should have had thrown on my hands, and been obliged to eat myself. Look here, sir," cried the woman, as she adjusted the strap of her basket, "if I buy the bit of fish will you take the poor gal then?" "No!" cried Uncle Luke, slamming the door, as the woman stood with her basket once more upon her back. "Humph!" exclaimed the old woman, as she thrust the penny in her pocket, and then hesitated as to where she should place the letter. While she was considering, the little window was opened and Uncle Luke's head appeared. "Mind you don't lose that letter." "Never you fear about that," said the old woman; and as if from a bright inspiration she pitched it over her head into her basket, and then trudged away. "She'll lose that letter as sure as fate," grunted Uncle Luke. "Well, there's nothing in it to mind. Now I suppose I can have a little peace, and--Who's this?" He leaned a little farther out of his window, so as to bring a curve of the cliff-path well into view. "My beautiful nephew and that parasite. Going up to Leslie, I suppose-- to smoke. Waste and debauchery--smoking." He shut the window sharply, and settled himself down with his back to it, determined not to see his nephew pass; but five minutes later there was a sharp rapping at the door. "Uncle Luke! Uncle!" The old man made no reply. "Here, Uncle Luke. I know you're at home; the old woman said so." "Hang that old woman!" grumbled Uncle Luke; and in response to a fresh call he rose, and opened his door with a snatch. "Now then, what is it? I'm just going to bed." "Bed at this time of the day?" cried Harry cheerfully. "Why you couldn't go to sleep if you did go." "Why not?" snapped the old man; "you can in the mornings--over the ledger." Harry winced, but he turned off the malicious remark with a laugh. "Uncle loves his joke, Pradelle," he said. "Come, uncle, I don't often visit you; ask us in." "No, you don't often visit me, Harry," said the old man, looking at him searchingly; "and when you do come it's because you want something." Harry winced again, for the old man's words cut deeply. "Oh, nonsense, uncle! Pradelle and I were having a stroll, and we thought we'd drop in here and smoke a cigar with you." "Very kind," said the old man, looking meaningly from one to the other. "Missed meeting the girls, or have they snubbed you and sent you about your business?"