IV ONIONHEAD'S CHILDREN 213 



Blest If I do! T'other suits 'en better I 

 s'pose. . . .' 



Children take to him: It was a child that 

 dragged from him the only bit of his history we 

 know. She had run up to him, and perhaps 

 because she had not grown old enough to be steady 

 on her legs, perhaps because Onlonhead's clothes 

 are dirty, her father called her back as children 

 are called back from big dogs. Beautiful Onion- 

 head took her up and carried her to her father. 

 'Do 'ee think / an't had no chll'ern o' me own?' 

 he burst out. 



'Hast? — What! be 'em dead then?' 



'No — they hain't dead — not that I knows of.' 



'Don' 'ee never see 'em then?' 



Beautiful Onionhead did not reply. 



Apart from that, almost the whole of his known 

 history Is contained In his two nicknames. 



One summer he was asked by a busy fisherman 

 to take a party of visitors to sea. They were, it 

 seems, the sort of people who continually go Into 

 loud raptures over the beauty of the cliffs and 

 water and sky. 'Beautiful! Beautiful!' they 

 would exclaim. 'Oh, Isn't It beautiful! Don't 

 you find it beautiful to live here, boatman?' For 

 some reason — possibly because he, too, could 



