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A number of the boys ran out to gather kindling and wood and soon a fire was crackling in the stove.,

"Not before?" cried Miss Acton, an exclamation which Captain Weaver received with a faint smile.,

"Old Scroggie's ghost huntin' fer the lost money," whispered Walter, "Oh, gosh! let's leg it!',

"You can pay for the clothes on your return, or by drawing an advance which Mr Acton's manager will let you have. Do you know Miss Acton?"

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Meanwhile, Mr Lawrence had gone about three-quarters of a mile and was now approaching his father's home. The Admiral's cottage was in a lane off the main road. It was such an umbrageous retreat as Cowper, had he been in earnest, would have hastened to when he sighed for some boundless contiguity of shade. It stood in a little land protected by hedges and walls full of orchards. The Admiral lived in the heart of groves of cherry, plum, apple, pear, and other fruitful trees which presently,[Pg 52] in this month of April, would make the scene round about as beautiful as driven snow shone upon by the sun, with almond-white flowers.,

As he advanced towards the companion steps the hatch was darkened by the figure of Mr Eagle, who, on catching sight of the Captain, cried: "A sail broad on the larboard bow, sir!",

"I had anticipated his doing something like this and had provided against it. Old man Scroggie, the original owner of this land, had left a will, bequeathing all he owned to a young man of this district, Stanhope by name. Scroggie, I knew, was afraid of the will coming to light and I worked on this fear. It was known throughout this community that the one friend old Scroggie had trusted was Spencer, the store-keeper, who, having quarreled with the elder Stanhope over a survey of property, held a secret grudge against his son, Frank.",

Meanwhile Lucy Acton watched and waited on the quarterdeck of the Aurora. The hour was about half-past four. The breeze was sinking with the sun; it still blew with weight enough to keep the sails of the three ships steady. But the dance of the sea was growing languid, the rolling foam of the breaking head was wanting in brilliance of flash and friskiness of somersault; the blue of the deep was darkening, and spread in violet shot with light blue and purple gleams to the margin of[Pg 443] the reflected glory of the sun where the lines of light steeped into the richer colour.