"Ram, are the men coming up to the house in the middle of the night ?" "Dunno what you mean, miss." "You do, sir, for you were with them.

I saw you and ever so many more come up with little barrels slung over their shoulders." Ram's face was a study in the comic line as he shook his head.
"Yes you were, sir, and it was wicked smuggling.

I order you to tell me directly.

Are they coming up to-night ?" "Mustn't tell," said the boy slowly.
"Then they are," cried the girl, with her handsome young face puckering up with the trouble which oppressed her, and after standing looking thoughtful and anxious for a few moments, she went away toward the front of the house, while Ram went round to the side and delivered his basket.
"Course we are," he said to himself, as he went down the hill again.
"But I warn't going to blab.

What a fuss people do make about a bit o' smuggling! How pretty she looks!" and he stopped short to admire her-- the _she_ being the _White Hawk_, which lay motionless on the calm sea.
"Wish I could sail aboard a boat like that, and be dressed like that young chap with his sword.