Violet Jacob > Stories told by the miller

CONCLUSION
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Street and looked up to the giddy point of the
steeple, where the weathercock twirled, more
than a hundred feet in the air; they wondered
at the quaint houses, with their outside stair¬
cases and their little wooden triangles of drying
haddocks nailed against the wall. Then they
strolled to the docks and stood at the place
from which the lovely Nix had dived into the
salt water. The tide lapped and gurgled
against the quays, and the wind sang in the
rigging of the ships alongside, and the fair¬
haired sailors talked in a foreign tongue,
shouting to the fishwives who passed in their
blue petticoats and amber necklaces along the
cobbled roadway. The lighthouse stood on the
promontory and the North Sea rolled and
heaved outside the bar. It was a delightful
holiday.
When they were tired of that they went
out towards the seashore. The gulls were
wheeling over the bents and sea-grass, and the
sands lay smooth and fine to the edge of the
waves. Little Peter rushed off to play, leaping
about and throwing stones and gathering shells,
while his companions sat upon the sand-dunes
watching him.
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