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Billy turned slowly, his fingers fumbling with his cotton braces. He looked at the noxious dose in the tumbler, then at his mother's face. "All right," he said gently, "I'll take 'em, Ma; give 'em here." Various sensations were depicted in Mr Eagle's face as he listened. First he looked scared, then fierce by mere force of frown and enlargement of eyes, then sceptical with his sour, sneering mouth, then obstinate, sullen, mulish. He perfectly believed in the statement Mr Lawrence had made. Captain Acton, the owner, was a naval officer, and so was Mr Lawrence. They had agreed to abide in this matter of selling the ship and discharging the crew by a custom of their Service, namely, the sealed instructions. Her father nodded. "I'll bet a cookie that was Billy's old muzzle loader I heard down in the duck-ponds about daylight," he laughed. "Maybe," he added hopefully, "he'll fetch us a brace of ducks.".
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Anson, sitting slit-eyed and gleeful close beside him, received the slap with a force that knocked his face into his porridge bowl. Billy arose hastily, saying something about helping her father with the ducks and went outside. He found Landon seated on a soap-box behind the boat house, industriously stripping the ducks of their feathers. "The lady, I presume, ate nothing?" Billy kicked his hat high in air and turned a handspring. "Tell me all about it, Harry. You saw 'em married, did you?".
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