CHAPTER VII.
HOW I SHOWED ONE THE WAY TO THE BOUTIQUES Another scene stands out very sharply in my recollection of the boy and girl of those early days, from the fact that it gave our Island folk a saying which lasted a generation, and whenever I heard the saying it brought the whole matter back to me.
"Show him the way to the Boutiques," became, in those days, equivalent to "mislead him--trick him--deceive him"-- and this was how it came about.
I can see the boy creeping slowly along the south side of Brecqhou in a boat which was big enough to make him look very small.

It was the smaller of the two boats belonging to the farm, but it was heavily laden with vraic.

There had been two days of storm, the port at Brecqhou was full of the floating seaweed, and the fields at Belfontaine hungered for it.

Philip Carre and Krok and the small boy had been busy with it since the early morning, and many boat-loads had been carried to Port a la Jument as long as the flood served for the passage of the Gouliot, and since then, into Havre Gosselin for further transport when the tide turned.
The weather was close and heavy still, sulky-looking, as though it contemplated another outbreak before settling to its usual humour.

There was no sun, and now and again drifts of ghostly haze trailed over the long sullen waves.
But the small boy knew every rock on the shore of Brecqhou, and the more deadly ones that lay in the tideway outside, just below the surface, and whuffed and growled at him as he passed.