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"Pa," said Billy, "would you mind comin' to the woodshed an' lookin' over my open water decoys. I've been restringin' 'em, an' weightin' the canvasbacks an' redheads, an' givin' the bluebills a fresh coat o' paint. I'd like to know what you think of my job." "I can't conceive of anything," said Captain Weaver, smiling with something of pride at the Admiral and Captain Acton, "born—I don't care in what shipwright's yard, whether British or French or Roosian or Spaniard—as is going to have more than a look at the Aurora when it's her pleasure to show nothing but her heels." "You shet right up, Tom!" commanded his wife. "Ain't it nuthin' to you that your son grows up wild and uneddicated?".

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"Then the fellow," said Captain Acton, "is steward of the Minorca! This gentleman," said he, addressing the Admiral, "has exactly described the figure of a man who passed me in the cabin two or three days ago when I was talking to Mr Lawrence. Judging that he belonged to the ship, and being struck by his appearance, I asked Mr Lawrence who he was, and he answered that he was a poor devil whom he had shipped as a steward or captain's waiter out of pity, and he said something about having once paid a fine for[Pg 186] the man to rescue him from a term of imprisonment to which he would have been sentenced for some trifling offence." His feelings overcame him, and he looked upon the ground in silence. Anson stood still, fumbling the buttons. So that was it! School! He knew it was some awful catastrophe. Where was Billy? He glanced across at the other bed. Billy was not in it. He went slowly downstairs, washed himself, and went in to breakfast. Billy was not there. His father was just getting up from the table. She set the bowls down on the little table beside the bed, placed the lamp beside them, then leaning over tucked the blankets about the boys..