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"We must hoist foreign colours," said the Admiral quickly and decisively. "American, I should think; there are many Yankees afloat like the Aurora." "Yes, yes," spoke Mr. Johnston, impatiently. "No doubt I shall get to know Mr. Ringold very well. Now, sir, concerning your other neighbors?" Mr. Johnston held a dripping yolk of egg poised, peering from beneath his brows at his host. "Oh I don't know," Billy replied. "What makes you think so, Jim?" Scroggie sat down beside him on the log. "I had a chum in the city who laughed just like you do. Gosh, nobody'll know how much I miss him.".

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One sat at the table who peered at him hard when Mr Short began. This was a middle-aged man in a brown wig. He was one of the two clerks kept by Mr Greyquill, and regularly dined at "The Swan's" ordinary, a repast which had never once been decorated by the presence of Mr Greyquill, who, living in rooms over his offices, chose to eat for his breakfast a little fish which he bought from[Pg 129] a man with a barrow with whom he haggled, and for his dinner a cutlet or a piece of steak, just enough for one, with vegetables, and for supper whatever might have been left from breakfast or dinner, and if nothing was left, then a piece of "hearty bread and cheese," as he would term it, and a glass of beer. "Maurice," remonstrated Mrs. Wilson, smothering the sympathy in her heart in the clutch of duty, "it's wrong fer you to take advantage of your pore ma's deefness this way. I wouldn't send Willium back with you, anyways. What devilment you wouldn't think of he certainly would. No, I'll ask your ma to let you come, but it's Anson I'll have bring you home an' not Willium." And with a frown and a shake of her head she followed her neighbor into the house. "I could love him for his way of singing 'Sally in our Alley,'" said Miss Acton. "But the song in his mouth has not the moving sweetness papa gave it." A full moon was veiling lake and bay in sheen of silvery whiteness as Hinter and Erie went out into the August night. Eastward the long pine covered Point swept a dark line against the grey, shadowy rush-lands. Somewhere among the hidden ponds mallards and grey ducks were quacking contentedly as they fed. A swamp coon raised his almost human cry as he crept the sandy shores in search of the frogs whose tanging notes boomed from the boglands..