They walked away together, and Joan pondered over the last words. Truth
seemed an eternal, abiding passion with John Barron, and the contemplation
of this idea gave her considerable pleasure. She did not know that a man
may be at once true to his art and a liar to his fellows.

Presently her father returned with Tom, and the three walked home together.
Gray Michael appeared quietly satisfied that his son was shaping well and
showing courage and nerve. But he silenced the lad quickly enough when Tom
began to talk with some gasconade concerning greet deeds done westward of
the Scilly Islands.

"'Let another man praise thee an' not thine awn mouth,' my bwoy," said Mr.
Tregenza. "It ban't the wave as makes most splash what gaws highest up the
beach, mind. You get Joan to teach 'e how to peel 'taties, 'cause 'tis a
job you made a tidy bawk of, not to mention no other. Keep your weather-eye
liftin' an' your tongue still. Then you'll do. An' mind--the bwoat's clean
as a smelt by five o'clock to-morrow marnin', an' no later."

Tom, dashed by these base details, answered seaman fashion:

"Ay, ay, faither."

Then they all tramped home, and the boy enjoyed the glories of a late
supper, though he was half asleep before he had finished it.




CHAPTER ELEVEN