CHAPTER XI

AT NEWLYN

THE month of August had nearly run its course when, one hot afternoon, an old man, spare of figure and bent shouldered, with a knapsack at his back, paused to rest on the little bridge at the entrance of the village of Newlyn, and gazed about him fully appreciative of the beauty of the scene. Before him lay the village, a busy little port, with its two fine piers forming a safe harbour for the fishing fleet, whilst looking towards Penzance, from which town he had walked, his eyes rested on a sweep of wet sands, for it was low tide.

"It must be nearly five o'clock," thought the old man, who was no other than the cobbler from Sun Court on his annual holiday. "Time for me to be getting on. I must see about a lodging for the night; I daresay there 'll not be much difficulty about that; but, first of all, I'll call on my friends. I remember the cottage where Robin's grandfather used to live, and I don't suppose he's changed his abode; I'll soon find out, at any rate."

Accordingly half an hour later found him standing before a picturesque thatched cottage, situated in a steep street called Trewarneth Street, a name which means "the street of the hill." He waited a moment under the honeysuckle-covered porch, before making his presence known, to listen to the sound of voices which reached his ears from an open window—one a man's deep bass, the other a child's clear treble. He smiled as he recognised the young voice, and immediately knocked at the door; whereupon the familiar voice said,—

"I'll see who it is, grandfather."

And a moment later the door was opened and he found himself face to face with little Robin Rodway. The boy uttered a cry of mingled pleasure and surprise, and led him at once into the kitchen—a large, low room, with a stone floor and whitewashed walls.

"Grandfather, grandfather, here's Mr. Blamey!" he cried joyously. "Oh, how glad I am to see you, Mr. Blamey! Oh, how delighted mother will be, and father too!"

The cobbler looked from his young friend to Robin Rodway senior, the other occupant of the kitchen, who held out a friendly hand and greeted him warmly.

"I've heard a deal about you from my grandson here," said the old sailor, smiling down at his visitor, who was quite a head and shoulders shorter than himself. "Sit down; now do sit down and make yourself at home; you're looking pretty nigh done up, and no mistake."

"I've footed it all the way from Penzance," explained Jasper, as he took the chair Robin placed for him near the open window. "You'll maybe not remember me by sight, Mr. Rodway," he proceeded, "but I remember seeing you when I visited Newlyn some years ago. You've altered very little," he added, looking at the strong, upright figure and healthy, weather-beaten countenance of Robin's grandfather.

"I've not such a poor memory as you imagine," said the old sailor; "your face is quite familiar to me. Walked from Penzance, have you? You must be pretty well done up. It's been such a hot afternoon, too."

"Not too hot for me," said Jasper. "I took my time and enjoyed the walk. I'm not over-tired. I'm thin and wiry, and really very strong. I'm having a little holiday in Cornwall, and thought I would like to see how my Plymouth friends are doing, not having heard anything of them since they left Sun Court. Robin is looking most remarkably well; he seems to me to have put on pounds in weight these last three weeks, and he's burnt as brown as a berry. Newlyn air must suit him."

"I'm glad to hear you say that, for I mean to keep him here with me," said Robin's grandfather in a decided tone, and with an affectionate glance towards the boy.

"How is every one in Sun Court, Mr. Blamey?" asked Robin. Then, without giving time for a reply, he went on: "I thought so much of Dick Farrant whilst he was in jail and wondered what he was feeling. I suppose he's at home now?"

"He came home after his time was up, but he's gone again. I'll explain all about him by-and-by. Tell me, now, how's your mother? Quite well? That's good hearing. She was but poorly when she left Sun Court. And your stepfather?"

"Oh, he's ever so much better," replied Robin; "he said this morning that he felt just fit for work. Oh, Mr. Blamey, there's such a good piece of news to tell—"

"Perhaps your mother and her husband would like to tell Mr. Blamey their good news themselves, Robin," broke in his grandfather, as footsteps were heard approaching the cottage; "at any rate, give them the opportunity of doing so. Here they come. You must stay and have tea with us, Mr. Blamey."

"Oh, thank you," said Jasper, who felt that a cup of tea was what he most desired at present, for he was thirsty after his long walk; "you are very kind. I should like to stay."

A minute later Mr. and Mrs. Burt had entered the kitchen, and Jasper was shaking hands with them and explaining his presence there. They both expressed themselves delighted to see him, and their faces plainly showed they spoke as they felt.

It was a happy party that took tea in the old sailor's cottage that afternoon, for all its members were in the best of spirits. Never once did the conversation flag. It was evident that Richard Burt had nearly, if not quite, regained his usual health, and his wife had already faint roses in the cheeks which were certainly less thin than they had been three weeks previously. During the meal Jasper was told the piece of news which Robin had been about to impart when his grandfather had stopped him, and that was that Mr. and Mrs. Burt had been so fortunate as to obtain the posts of caretakers of a house not far from Newlyn, which belonged to a gentleman who was only in residence there for a few months during the summer. It was Mrs. Burt who explained all this.

"Robin is to live here with his grandfather," she said, with a tender smile at her little son; "so I shall see him very often. It won't be like giving him up altogether—you know, Mr. Blamey, how I dreaded doing that. Our new home is only a mile from here. Richard will have the garden to keep in order and the charge of a pony and some poultry, and I shall look after the house. We shall have plenty to do, but not too much, and I do trust we shall give satisfaction. Our master is an artist, and a very nice gentleman he seems."

"He is a friend of Mr. Groves," her husband explained. "Mrs. Groves interested herself to get us these situations, and I can't tell you how grateful we feel to her."

"I am very glad to hear of your good fortune," the cobbler said heartily, "but I am sorry to lose you as neighbours. How shall you manage about your belongings?"

"I suppose one of us will have to go back to Sun Court in order to get rid of our bits of furniture, which are not worth the cost of removal," Mrs. Burt replied; "we thought of letting a broker take them for what they are worth."

"I wonder if you would care to entrust that business to me?" asked Jasper.

"Gladly," she answered, glancing at her husband, who nodded his approval of the plan; "but I hardly like to trouble you—"

"Trouble? Nonsense!" broke in the cobbler.

"You leave the matter in my hands and I'll do the best I can for your interests."

And thus, after a little further talk, it was settled.

The pleasant meal was drawing to a close when Robin again mentioned Dick Farrant, and reminded the visitor that he had said he would explain all about him by-and-by.

"Well, so I will," Jasper replied; "not that there's much to explain, except that he's gone to Canada."

"To Canada!" every one echoed; and Richard Burt inquired: "How did he get the money to go?"

"It was provided for him by a friend," was the response.

"I did not know he had a friend sufficiently well-to do—" Mrs. Burt was commencing, when she paused suddenly, her eyes fixed full upon Jasper's face. "O Mr. Blamey, it is you who have done this!" she cried. "Oh, I do hope your money has not been thrown away."

"I hope not," the cobbler answered. "You see, it would have been most difficult for the lad to have turned over a new leaf in Plymouth," he went on; "so when he came home after his ten days in jail, I had a talk with him, and found that he was anxious to get away and make a fresh start in life somewhere else. I happened to know a couple of steady young men who were about to emigrate to Canada, and I asked Dick if he'd like to go too—I'd sounded them beforehand and found they wouldn't object to take him with them, and give him a helping hand, you understand. Well, Dick, he jumped at the idea, and he sailed from Liverpool two days ago. Everything was settled very hurriedly, but I hope and believe it will turn out for the best. Some folks, like some plants, do better for transplanting," he concluded quaintly.

"That's true," agreed Robin Rodway senior, "and I daresay it may prove so in this case. Canada's a fine country, and if a lad will work and keep straight, he can get ahead there. I've heard Robin talk a lot about this Dick Farrant, and according to his telling, he's not all bad."

"The soil of Sun Court didn't suit him," said Jasper gravely; "it brought out the worst of him; but I've a feeling that he will do better where he has gone."

"I should think his parents must be very grateful to you for having befriended him," remarked Mrs. Burt. "God alone knows from what you may have been the means of saving him. I believe he would have gone from bad to worse in Plymouth."

"I wish I had seen him to say good-bye," said Robin, with real regret in his tone. "I shall always remember that he was sorry when my money was stolen, and that he offered me a shilling—and wished me to take it, too."

At this point in the conversation, the cobbler produced a pocket-book from the breast pocket of his coat, and took therefrom a letter.

"Dick gave me this for you, Robin," he said; "he asked me to keep it for you till you returned to Sun Court—he did not know I should be visiting Newlyn."

"Dick wrote to me!" cried Robin in astonishment. He stretched out his hand for the letter as he spoke, and took it. It was addressed simply "Robin," in a large plain handwriting. "Fancy his having taken the trouble to write to me!" he exclaimed, glancing from his mother to his stepfather, who both appeared as surprised as he was himself.

"Read what he has to say, my dear," said Mrs. Burt.

Accordingly Robin opened the letter and commenced to peruse it slowly, for he found some difficulty in deciphering it. At first he looked pleased, then his expression changed to one of bewilderment, and from that to utter amazement. Finally the letter dropped from his hands on to the table, and he sprang excitedly to his feet.

"Oh, he did it, he did it!" he cried. "Oh, I never thought that it might have been Dick!"