"Miserable cockney!" said Duncan Leslie to himself; and his face, which had been overcast, brightened a little as he scanned the boat coming from the harbour. "Mr Pradelle likes exercise," said Louise quietly. Duncan's face grew dull again. "Then I wish he would take it in London," said the old man, "jumping over his desk or using his pen, and not come here." The water glistened and sparkled with the vigorous strokes given by the two young men who propelled the boat, and quickly after there was a grating noise as the bows ground against the rocks of the point and a young man in white flannels leaped ashore, while his companion after awkwardly laying in his oar followed the example, balancing himself as he stepped on to the gunwale, and then after the fashion of a timid horse at a gutter, making a tremendous bound on to the rocks. As he did this his companion made a quick leap back into the bows to seize the chain, when he had to put out an oar once more and paddle close up to the rock, the boat having been sent adrift by the force of the other's leap. "What a fellow you are, Pradelle!" he said, as he jumped on to a rock, and twisted the chain about a block. "Very sorry, dear boy. Didn't think of that." "No," said the first sourly, "you didn't." He was a well-knit manly fellow, singularly like his sister, while his companion, whom he had addressed as Pradelle, seemed to be his very opposite in every way, though on the whole better looking; in fact, his features were remarkably handsome, or would have been had they not been marred by his eyes, which were set close together, and gave him a shifty look. "How are you, uncle? How do, Leslie?" said Harry, as he stood twirling a gold locket at the end of his chain, to receive a grunt from the fisherman, and a friendly nod from the young mine-owner. "So here you are then," he continued; "we've been looking for you everywhere. You said you were going along the west walk." "Yes, but we saw uncle fishing, and came down to him." "Well, come along now." "Come? Where?" "Come where? Why for a sail. Wind's just right. Jump in." Duncan Leslie looked grave, but he brightened a little as he heard what followed. "Oh no, Harry." As she spoke, Louise Vine glanced at her companion, in whose face she read an eager look of acquiescence in the proposed trip, which changed instantly to one of agreement with her negative. "There, Vic. Told you so. Taken all our trouble for nothing." "But, Harry--" "Oh, all right," he cried, interrupting her, in an ill-used tone. "Just like girls. Here's our last day before we go back to the confounded grindstone. We've got the boat, the weather's lovely; we've been looking for you everywhere, and it's `Oh no, Harry!' And Madelaine looking as if it would be too shocking to go for a sail." "We don't like to disappoint you," said Madelaine, "but--"