"Mr Trethick, would you mind?" said the vicar, apologetically, as he stooped to one handle of the finest basket of mackerel. "How beautiful they look." "Certainly not," said Geoffrey, who took the other handle, and they, between them, bore the overflowing basket up to the foot of the lectern. "We'll make a pile of them here," exclaimed the vicar, whose face was flushed with pleasure; and, setting the basket down, they returned for another, Miss Pavey, scissors in hand, once more keeping guard at the door. "I am so glad," he continued. "I wanted something by the reading-desk, and these fish are so appropriate to our town." "Let's go and get parson ten times as many, lads," cried Tom Jennen, excitedly. "No, no," said the vicar, laying his hand upon the rough fellow's sleeve; "there are plenty here. It is not the quantity, my lads, but the way in which the offering is made." There was an abashed silence once more amongst the guilty group, which was broken by the vicar saying,-- "Will you come in and see what we have done?" There was a moment's hesitation and a very sheepish look, but as the head sheep, in the person of Tom Jennen, took off his rough cap, stooped, and lifted a basket and went in on tip-toe, the rest followed, their heavy boots, in spite of their efforts, clattering loudly on the red and black tiled floor, while the vicar took from them with his own hands the remainder of the fish, and placed them round the desk. "I wish we could have had some pieces of ore, Mr Trethick," said the vicar. "I should have liked to have represented some offerings of our other great industry here." "I'll bring you some tin and copper, sir," cried Amos Pengelly, who had been staring about, cap in hand, and wishing he might get up in that little stone pulpit and preach. "And I will send you the first winnings from Wheal Carnac, Mr Lee," said Geoffrey, quietly; and as he spoke he saw that Rhoda Penwynn, who had been grouping ferns by the communion rails, and hearing all, was present, and had heard his words, but she turned away. "Will you?" cried the vicar, eagerly. "I thank you both, and I pray, Geoffrey Trethick, that your venture may prosper yet." "Thank you," said Geoffrey, quietly, and he looked smilingly in the young vicar's face till his scrutiny seemed to evoke a womanly blush. In the mean time the fishermen, hanging close together in a group, stood cap in hand, staring round at the decorations of the church, and, lastly, at the wondrous tints upon the fish, that seemed to be intensified and made dazzling as the sun streamed through a stained glass window and fell upon the glistening heaps. One pointed to this heap of fruits, another to that, but no one spoke, and Tom Jennen furtively removed his tobacco quid, and stuffed the dirty-brown, wet morsel into the secrecy of his trousers pocket, giving his hand a polish after upon the top of one of his high fisher-boots.