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Billy knew exactly what he was going to hear at Sunday School, and what he was going to see, and there wasn't much of interest in that for a live boy. Consequently he was quite unprepared for the unexpected shock he received on this particular morning, when he trailed dejectedly into the Sunday School room behind his mother and Anson. Came a fine, glittering morning towards the middle of June. It was about half an hour after daybreak: the sun had risen, and the flood of brilliance lay broad upon the sea in the east. Captain Acton was dressing in his cabin, when his door was rapped upon, and Captain Weaver, whose manner was full of excitement, reported a sail in sight, right in the centre of the horizon betwixt the two ships. Hinter put his hand in his coat pocket and drew out an ivory dog-whistle. "Would you like to know them, Billy?" he asked, his keen eyes on the boy's face..
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But Lucy Acton smiled and curtsied when he passed as usual. Old Miss Acton was nervously polite in her way in her little chirrupy salutations. Captain Acton was sometimes down at the ship, but had nothing to say about the finding of a letter good or bad. "Down feedin' his pets, most likely," answered his father as he went out. A moment or two later Billy came in. The boys seated themselves in their places and ate their breakfast in silence. Billy braced himself. At the same time he caught a glimpse of Anson's leering face and inwardly vowed that that young man should have plenty of reason to regret that leer. "You have not lost it, Mr Greyquill.".
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