"And so you get worked to death," said Geoffrey. "I don't like it, Bess, my lassie," he continued, while the girl flushed slightly with pleasure, as she noted the interest he took in her. "Something must be done, or I shall be obliged to take Madge away and get her lodgings elsewhere." "You'll--you'll take Miss Mullion away?" cried Bess excitedly, as she laid her hand upon his arm. "No, no: don't do that, Mr Trethick." "Why not? Would you rather she stayed here?" "Yes," said Bess softly, "I would rather she stayed here. I'll do the best I can for her." "God bless you, Bessie!" cried Geoffrey warmly. "You're a good, true-hearted lass, and I shall never forget your kindness. Well, I must see if some help can't be managed for you." Bess flushed a little more deeply, for his words and interest were very sweet to her. Then, looking up cheerfully, she said that it was only a matter of a day or two. "Father is quite taking to baby too," she said. "He nursed it for over an hour last night." "Did he?" cried Geoffrey, laughing. "I wish I had been here. I say, Bessie, does tobacco-smoke make it sneeze?" "No: not much," said Bessie wonderingly. "Then look here," cried Geoffrey, "I'm not going to let the old man beat me. I don't see why I shouldn't be able to nurse as well as he. Give us hold. I'm going out to loaf on the cliff, and look at the sea, and smoke a pipe and think, and I'll take the baby." "Mr Trethick!" cried Bess. "I mean it," he said, laughing. "Here, come on, young one. Which way up do you hold it, Bessie?" "Oh, Mr Trethick," cried Bessie. "Don't--please don't take it." "Shall!" said Geoffrey; and to Bessie's amusement and annoyance, for a something in the act seemed to give her pain, he laughingly took the baby and held it in his arms. "But you won't take it out, Mr Trethick," protested Bess. "Indeed, but I shall," he said. "I always say what I mean." "But you can't, sir. It must be dressed, and have on its hood." "Bother!" cried Geoffrey; "it has got on too much already, and the sea-breeze will do it good. Come along, young top-heavy," he continued, laughing. "I shall be in the corner where I smoke my pipe, Bessie. Come and fetch the little soft dab when you've done." He went laughing off, not seeing Bessie's countenance contract with pain, and, talking to the round-eyed, staring infant, he made his way up out of the Cove and along the cliff path, towards Carnac, to where the rock retired in one spot, forming a sunny little nook, full of soft, dry turf, stunted ferns and pink stonecrop, and scented with wild thyme. It was a place much affected by Geoffrey, where he could sit and watch the changing sea, and try to scheme his future. Here he seated himself on the turf, with his shoulders against the rock.