Father would go trout fishing near Saltwick Nab tonight. Oh merciful summer days when there was less work for a fisherlass! Sure, the nets had to be cleaned and the corks checked, but that was far less work than gathering enough bait for some few hundred hooks while getting her feet and ankles wet and nearly freezing to death on the Scaur, skaning as much bait and then baiting those cursed stingy hooks. Not to mention the worst job of all: mucking the lines. It was worst when the weather had been adverse, or father hadn't been able to go out for another reason, and she would not just have to clean the remainder of the bait from the hooks, but she'd have to cut away the complete muscles and mollusks. They had already become thick by that time and had started rotting. The smell wouldn't leave her nostrils all through the night. In summer there was still cleaning and cooking and laundry of course, but every day besides Monday seemed bearable in summer.

All her chores done, Anne strolled around town idly. She had told herself that she would use this time free well. She'd see if she could get a small job for during her free hours. Or perhaps she would reflect on a strategy to cheer Alice up. Perhaps she would see if there were free lectures at one of the institutes or societies that she could follow to improve herself.

And yet in spite of her industrious ambitions, she found herself merely strolling around, thinking and daydreaming. She was walking idly down by the wharfs when she stopped in her tracks. The dress was that of a domestic servant, but she recognised the face and hair of a fisherlass she well knew. The Russells lived closeby and Ellie and Anne had been classmates. Ellie was looking at something and then flung it across the harbour. "Ellie," she greeted. "You look right smart." She sat down by the girl's side, crossing her legs in front of her.

Were those sweets?