"Ef 'ee please, you'm to come ashore, to wance!"

The girl rowed a couple of strokes, grounded the boat, and stepped
lightly ashore with a big basket and an unembarrassed glance at the
Notice.

"There's a few young potatoes at the bottom," she said, with a
curtsey, as she handed her gift to Mr. Fogo. "They're the earliest
and best anywhere in these parts. Can you cook potatoes?" she asked,
suddenly turning to Caleb. Beneath her sun-bonnet her pretty cheek
was flushed, and her chin thrust forward with just a shadow of
defiance.

"Iss, to be sure," grinned Caleb. "Why, us does our own washin'."

Tamsin's eyes travelled without bashfulness over the array upon the
beach.

"Pretty washing, I expect!" She walked up and took some of the
clothes into her hand. "Look here--not half-wrung--and some fallen
in the mud and dirtied worse than ever."

With fine contempt she moved among the clothes, wrung them, spread
them out again, and even returned with some to the wash-tub.
Like four whipped schoolboys the males looked on as she tucked up the
sleeves of her neat print gown.

"Soap, too, left to float in the wash-tub, and--salt water I declare!
Caleb, empty this and get some soft water from the old butt by the