"Yes, I believe I shall, Mr Paul," said Geoffrey, quietly. "I'm not starting with the idea of a fortune, but on the principles of which I have often told you of getting a profit out of a mine by economy, new means of reducing the ore, and living where others would fail." "Humph!" said the old man, looking at him thoughtfully, and they smoked on in silence. "I was a bit bilious this morning," said Uncle Paul at last, in an apologetic tone. "Yes," said Geoffrey, "I saw that." "Parson called and upset me. Wanted me to go and take the chair at a missionary meeting for the Hindoos, and I told him that the Hindoos and Buddhists ought to send missionaries to us. But don't take any notice." "Not I, old gentleman," said Geoffrey, laughing. "I rather like it." "Humph! I rather like you too, boy. You seem to do my biliousness good. You can stand a bullying without flying out. I haven't found a fellow stand it so well since I left the coolies." "Mutual admiration," laughed Geoffrey. "I like you, old gentleman, because you do fly out. It's quite refreshing after a lot of disappointments to have some one to quarrel with." There was another pause. "I say, Trethick," said the old man, "then Penwynn and Tregenna are hand-and-glove in this job, eh?" Geoffrey looked at the old man wonderingly, for he was evidently beating about the bush. "I don't know. There, don't ask me questions, old gentleman," was the reply. "I'm not at liberty to chatter." There was another silence. "Madge isn't a bad sort of girl, Trethick," said the old man at last. "No," said Geoffrey; "she's pretty and amiable, and I believe, poor lassie, she is very good-hearted. I often think you are too hard upon her." "Hard be hanged, sir! I've been her's and her mother's support these ten years." "Very likely," said Geoffrey, dryly; "but a dog doesn't like his crusts and bones any the better for having them thrown at him." "Humph!" ejaculated the old man, thoughtfully. "Well, perhaps I am a little hard upon her sometimes; but she aggravates me. Trethick, you are quite conceited puppy enough, I know, but that girl is fretting about you." "Ignorance is bliss, sir. I was not aware of it." "Ignorance is a blister, sir," cried the old man, sharply. "But," he added, more gently, "she is, I tell you. Trethick, she is a nice girl, and you might do worse." "Stuff, stuff, my dear sir!" cried Geoffrey, laughing. "You are mistaken, and I am not a marrying man. There, I must be off;" and, starting up, he swung off along the path, and away down towards the mine buildings, where steam was now puffing, water falling, and several busy hands were at work. Uncle Paul watched him thoughtfully as he strode away, and then sat back thinking, as he gazed out to sea. CHAPTER TWENTY NINE. BESS PRAWLE'S SECRET.