“Taken a wise an’ womanly course, as I hear.  ‘No,’ says she, ’I’ll go to bottomless brimstone before lendin’ myself to such a dodge’—­or words to that effect.  ’But I’ll tell ‘ee what I will do,’ says she, ’I’ll offer this here silver cup on my own account, an’ give it with my own hands to the winner.  And you can stand by,’ says she, ‘an’ look as pompous as you please.’  Either that, or that in so many words.  I’m givin’ you the gist of it, as it reached me.”

“Thank ’ee,” said ’Bias, perpending and digging up the roadway with the point of his stick. “’Tis to be her own prize, you say?”

“Yes, an’ presented with her own hands.  If I was you—­bein’ a trifle late as you are on the handicap—­I’d sail in an’ collar that prize.  ’Twould be a facer for him.”

“No time.”

“Whit-Monday’s not till the seventh o’ June.  Four clear weeks:  an’ Boatbuilder Wyatt could knock you up a shell in half that time.  He gets cleverer with every boat of the class; and with a boat built to race once only he could make pretty well sure.”

Later that afternoon Mr Philp, who never lost an occasion to advertise himself, paid a call on Mr Wyatt, boatbuilder.

“I found a new customer for you this afternoon,” he announced, winking mysteriously.  “If Cap’n Hunken should call along you’ll know what I mean.”

On his homeward road the industrious man had a stroke of good luck.  He espied Captain Hocken, and made haste to overtake him.

“Good evenin’, Cap’n Cai!”

“Ah—­Mr Philp?  Good evenin’ to ’ee.”

“It’s like a providence my meetin’ you; for as it chances you was the last man in my mind.  I happened down to Wyatt’s yard just now, and—­if you’ll believe me—­there’s reason to believe he’ll get an order to-morrow for another 14-footer,”

“Ay? . . .  What for?”

“Why, to enter for the cup you’re givin’ on Whit-Monday.”

“You’re mistaken,” said Cai. “‘Tis Mrs Bosenna that’s givin’ the cup, not I.”

“What?  With her own hands?”

“To be sure.  Why not?”

“Then that accounts for it,” said Mr Philp gleefully, rubbing his hands.  “He’s a deep one, is your friend Hunken!  It did strike me as odd, too—­ his givin’ an order to Wyatt in all this hurry:  but now I understand.”

“Drat the man! what is it you understand?”

“Why, as you know, Wyatt can knock him a shell together that’ll win the race under everybody’s nose.  ’Tis a child’s play, if you don’t mind castin’ the boat next day an’ content yourself with scantlin’ like a packin’ case.  At least, ’twould be child’s play to any one but Wyatt, who can’t help buildin’ solid, to save his life.  If the man had consulted me, I’d have recommended Mitchell.  Mitchell never had a length o’ seasoned wood in his store:  he can’t afford the capital.  But to my mind he can—­take him as a workman—­shape a boat better than Wyatt ever did yet.”