frequently not innocent of varied fishy odors. But Newlyn folk suck in a
smell of fish with their mothers' milk. 'Tis part of the atmosphere of
home.

When Joan returned from her visit to Gorse Point, she found a hard-faced
woman, thin of figure, with untidy hair, wrinkled brow and sharp features,
engaged about a pile of washing in the garden at the kitchen-door. Mrs.
Tregenza heard the girl arrive, and spoke without lifting her little gray
eyes from the clothes. Her voice was hard and high and discontented, like
that of one who has long bawled into a deaf man's ear and is weary of it.

"Drabbit you! Wheer you bin? Allus trapsing out when you'm wanted; allus
caddlin' round doin' nothin' when you ban't. I s'pose you think breakfus'
can be kep' on the table till dinner, washing-day or no?"

"I don't want no breakfus', then. I tuke some bread an' drippin' long with
me. Wheer's Tom to?"

"Gone to schule this half-hour. 'Tis nine o'clock an' past. Wheer you bin,
I sez? 'Tain't much in your way to rise afore me of a marnin'."

"Out through Mouzle to Gorse P'int to see Joe's ship pass by; an' I seen en
butivul."

"Thank the Lard he's gone. Now, I s'pose, theer'll be a bit peace in the
house, an' you'll bide home an' work. My fingers is to the bone day an'
night."

"He'll be gone a year purty nigh."