I'm going to
try and paint the gorse, all blazing so brightly against the sky."
"Them prickly fuzz-bushes?"
"Yes; because they are very beautiful."
"But they'm everywheres. You might so well paint the bannel [Footnote:
_Bannel_--Broom.] or the yether on the moors, mightn't 'e?"
"They are beautiful, too. Remember, I shall have Joe's ship for you
to-morrow."
He nodded without smiling, and turned away until a point of the gorse had
hidden her from sight. Then he sat down, loaded his pipe, and reflected.
"'Joe's ship,'" he said to himself, "a happy title enough."
And meantime the girl had looked after him with wonder and some amusement
in her eyes, had rubbed her chin reflectively--a habit caught from her
father--and had then scampered off smiling to herself.
"What a funny gent," she thought, "never laughs nor nothin'. An' I judged
he was a artist! But wonnerful kind, an' wonnerful queer, wi' it, sure
'nough."
CHAPTER THREE
THE TREGENZAS
Joan Tregenza lived in a white cottage already mentioned: that standing
just beyond Newlyn upon a road above the sea. The cot was larger than it
appeared from the road and extended backward into an orchard of plum and
apple-trees. The kitchen which opened into this garden was stone-paved,
cool, comfortable, sweet at all times with the scent of wood smoke, and
frequently not innocent of varied fishy odors. But Newlyn folk suck in a
smell of fish with their mothers' milk.
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