Caleb stood in front of his handiwork and gazed at it with honest
pride for some minutes; then went into the house to fetch Mr. Fogo
forth to look. He was absent for some minutes. When he returned
with his master, their eyes were greeted with a curious sight.
On the spit of shingle, and staring open-mouthed at the notice, stood
the Twins, their honest faces expressing the extreme of perplexity.
A few yards off the shore, in their boat, waited Tamsin, and leant
quietly on her paddles.
[Illustration: Staring open-mouthed at the notice.]
At the sight of her, Caleb's face fell a full inch; but he led his
master down and planted him resolutely in front of the board.
Mr. Fogo stared helplessly from it to the Twins.
"Mornin', sir," said Peter, after a long pause. His face wore a
deepened colour, and he smiled awkwardly.
"Good-morning," replied Mr. Fogo.
"A fine mornin'," repeated Peter, with a long gaze at the board, "an'
no mistake."
There was another long interval, during which everybody stared hard
at the Notice.
"'Tes a powerful fine mornin'," Peter re-asserted very slowly, "ef so
be as your station in life es in noways connected with turmuts.
Ef 'tes the less us says about the mornin' the better." With this
observation Peter looked hard at Mr.
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