DISAPPOINTMENT 135

“Holloa!” eried Nick, hurrying down; “will ye take
me across ?”

“ For thrippence,” said the boatman, hauling the wherry
alongside again with his hook.

Thrippence? Nick stopped, dismayed. Master Carew
had his gold rose-noble, and he had not thought of the
fare. They would soon find that he was gone.

“Oh, I must be across, sir!” he cried. “Can yena take
me free? I be little and not heavy; and I will help the
gentleman with his basket.”

The boatman’s only reply was to drop his hook and
push off with the oar.

But the gardener, touched by the boy’s pitiful expres-
sion, to say nothing of being tickled by Nick’s calling
him gentleman, spoke up: “Here, jack-sculler,” said he;
“T ll toss up wi thee for it.” He pulled a groat from his
pocket and began spinning it in the air. “Come, thou
lookest a gamesome fellow—cross he goes, pile he stays;
best two in three flips—what sayst?”

“Done!” said the waterman. “Pop her up!”

Up went the groat.

Nick held his breath.

“Pile it is,” said the gardener. “One for thee—and up
she goes again!” The groat twirled in the air and came
down clink upon the thwart.

“ Aha!” cried the boatman, “’t is mine, or I’m a horse!”

“Nay, jack-sculler,” laughed the gardener ; “cross it is!
. Ka me, ka thee, my pretty groat—I never lose with this
groat.”