certain
work about the boat-house, and in the boats when they were in use.

We could recite a great many scrapes, of which Noddy had been the hero,
during the two years of his stay at Woodville; but such a recital would
hardly be profitable to our readers, especially as the young man's
subsequent career was not devoid of stirring incidents.

Noddy drew a bucket of water at the pier, and carried it into the
boat-house. Ben, satisfied now that the work was actually in progress,
left the pier, and walked up to the house to receive his morning
instructions. He was hardly out of sight before Miss Fanny Grant
presented herself at the door.

Miss Fanny was now a nice young lady of twelve. She was as different
from her sister Bertha as she could be. She was proud, and rather
wayward. Like some other young ladies we have somewhere read about, she
was very fond of having her own way, even when her own way had been
proved to be uncomfortable and dangerous. But when we mention Miss
Fanny's faults, we do not wish to be understood that she had no virtues.
If she did wrong very often, she did right in the main, and had made a
great deal of progress in learning to do wisely and well, and, what was
just as good, in doing it after she had learned it.

Fanny Grant walked up to the boat-house with a very decided step, and it
soon appeared that she was not there by chance or accident; which leads
us sorrowfully to remark, that in her wrongdoing she often found a ready
companion and supporter in Noddy Newman. She was rather inclined to be a
romp; and though she was not given to "playing with the boys," the
absence of any suitable playmate sometimes led her to invite the
half-reformed vagabond of Woodville to assist in her sport.

"You are a pretty fellow, Noddy Newman!" said she, her pouting lips
giving an added emphasis to her reproachful remark. "Why didn't you come
down to the Point, as you said you would?"

"Because I couldn't, Miss Fanny," growled Noddy. "I had to wash out this
confounded boat-house, or be reported to Miss Bertha."

"Couldn't you do that after you got back?"

"Ben said I must do it before nine o'clock. I wanted to go down to the
Point, as I agreed, but you see I couldn't."

"I waited for you till I got tired out," pouted Fanny; but she neglected
to add that five minutes on ordinary occasions were the full limit of
her patience.

"Hang the old boat-house! I told Ben I wished it was burned up."

"So do I; but