"Doctor, will you take anything to-night? you have had a cold ride, and will have another on your way home--shall my mistress give you anything warm?" "I care not if she does. A little nutmeg in a little warm brandy-and-water, and just one slice of your nice harvest-cake, and I shall be comfortable." The first question asked of the doctor was, "What he thought of his patient?" "Why, he has got an ugly wound that will take months to heal. He will not be able to be moved for six or seven weeks. Where do his parents live?" "At Levington," was the reply. "His father is tolerably well to do in the world, though he has a large family. I have not a steadier young man on my premises, nor a quieter, soberer, or better behaved lad, or a better workman belonging to me." "So much the better. But what does the old fisherman do in the kitchen? I thought he never sat down in any house, but always kept to his boat?" "He is only waiting to speak to you, doctor. At least, he said he should stop to hear your report." "I should like to have one word with him." "I'll go and tell him so"; and off trotted the worthy farmer for Robin, with whom he soon returned, and then, beckoning to his wife, they left him and the doctor alone together. "Well, Robin, what an odd fish you are! I can never persuade you to come into my kitchen, and here you are, hail fellow well met, with the farmer's men at Harvest-Home. How is this, Robin? I shall tell my daughter of you, and leave her to set some of your foul fiends to work upon you." "They've been at work pretty well to-night, doctor, or else I'm wofully mistaken. One of 'em has done a pretty job of mischief here; and it's well if he don't do more before he's done." The doctor understood his dialect, and knew how to get out of him what he wanted. "Who did the foul fiend work upon? who was his victim?" "He left my boat, and went aboard Will Laud's." "What! the smuggler? I thought he was shot long ago." "So others thought, but not I; for I saw him and a sturdy villain of his pass my boat, with all their sails set; and when my Infernal Broiler left me, and sat grinning on his mast, I knew he was up to mischief." "What mischief, Robin?" "Why, look ye, doctor; you must ha' seen the mischief. Ha'en't you dressed the young man's wounds?" "Yes, Robin; but how came your imp to be the cause of this?" "Nay, that you must ask the girl here; for seldom do my imps fail to make mischief among the sex." "Was it a love affair?" "Nay, it didn't appear much o' that." And here Robin, in his quaint language, well understood by the doctor, told his own tale as it happened. "Well, Robin, all I can say is, that, but for you, one of the finest young fellows in the land would have lost his life; and there's a guinea for you."