chuckle. I fancied he cast a wink.
'Twas a broad joke he was playin' with, whatever an' all; an' I wished
I knowed what amused the dolt.

"You got it right, Sammy," says he.

The lad slapped his knee. "Yes, sir-ee!" says he. "You jus' bet I got
it right!"

"You got a wonderful ma, too?" says I.

"All I got is a wonderful pa," says he. "My ma died long, long ago.
Didn't she, Anthony Lot? An' my pa's sailin' foreign parts jus' now.
Isn't he, Anthony Lot? I might get a letter from un by the next
mail-boat. No tellin' when a letter will come. Anytime at all--maybe
next boat. An' my pa might turn up here hisself. Mightn't he, Anthony
Lot? Might turn up right here in Hide-an'-Seek Harbor without givin'
me the least word o' warnin'. Any day at all, too. Eh, Anthony Lot?"

"Skipper of a steam vessel in the South American trade," says Anthony.

"Any day at all?"

"Plyin' out o' Rio, I'm told."

"Eh, Anthony Lot? Any day at all?"

Anthony grinned at me in a way I'd no taste for. "Any day at all,"
says he t' the lad. "You got it right, Sammy."

"Ol' Sandy Spot is fetchin' me up," says the lad, "'til my pa comes
home. It don't cost my pa a copper, neither. Ol' Sandy Spot is
fetchin' me up jus' for my pa's sake. That's what comes o' havin' a pa
like the pa I got. Don't it, Anthony Lot?"

"I 'low so, Sammy; jus' for your pa's sake--an' the Gov'ment stipend,
too."

What slur was hid in that sly whisper about the Gov'ment stipend
escaped the lad.

"Ah-ha!" he crowed.

I'm accustomed t' pry into the hearts o' folks. With no conscience at
all I eavesdrops on feelin's. 'Tis a passion an' fixed practice. An'
now my curiosity clamored for satisfaction. I was suspicious an' I was
dumbfounded.

"You might put more heart in your crowin'," says I.

The lad turned on me with his breath caught an' his wee teeth as bare
as a wolf's.

"What you say that for?" says he.

"'Tis a pleasure," says I, "t' stir your wrath in your pa's behalf.
'Tis a pretty sight t' see. I enjoys it. In these modern times," says
I, "'tis not often I finds a lad as proud of his pa as you. My duty t'
you, sir," says I. "I praise you."

The lad looked t' the skipper.

"My compliments," says Hard Harry, enjoyin' the play. "Me, too. I
praise you highly."

"Whew!" says the lad. "Such manners abash me. There's no answer on the
tip o' my tongue. I'm ashamed o' my wit."

Skipper Harry chuckled. An' I laughed. An' the wee lad laughed, too.
An' dull A