aid; "I am going out now, and you are gardening."

"I don't want to garden," he pleaded. "Where are you going? Take me
with you."

"I am going to Fred Johnson's," I said bravely.

Baby Cecil was a very good child, though he was so much petted. He
gave a sigh of disappointment, but only said very gravely, "Will you
promise, _onyer-onner_, to tell me one when you come back?"

"I promise to tell you lots _when I come back_, on my honour," was my
answer.

I had to skirt the garden-hedge for a yard or two before turning off
across the meadow. In a few minutes I heard a voice on the other side.
Baby Cecil had run down the inside, and was poking his face through a
hole, and kissing both hands to me. There came into my head a wonder
whether his face would be much changed next time I saw it. I little
guessed when and how that would be. But when he cried, "Come back
_very soon_, Charlie dear," my imperfect valour utterly gave way, and
hanging my head I ran, with hot tears pouring over my face, all the
way to Johnson's wharf.

When Fred saw my face he offered to give up the idea if I felt
faint-hearted about it. Nothing that he could have said would have
dried my tears so soon. Every spark of pride in me blazed up to reject
the thought of turning craven now. Besides, I longed for a life of
adventure most sincerely; and I was soon quite happy again in the
excitement of being so near to what I had longed for.

CHAPTER VIII.

WE GO ON BOARD--THE PIE--AN EXPLOSION--MR. ROWE THE BARGE-MASTER--THE
'WHITE LION'--TWO LETTERS--WE DOUBT MR. ROWE'S GOOD FAITH.

The dew was still heavy on the grass when Fred and I crossed the
drying-ground about five o'clock on Thursday morning, and scrambled
through a hedge into our "coastguard" corner on the wharf. We did not
want to be seen by the barge-master till we were too far from home to
be put ashore.

The freshness of early morning in summer has some quality which seems
to go straight to the heart. I felt intensely happy. There lay the
barge, the sun shining on the clean deck, and from the dewy edges of
the old ropes, and from the barge-master's zinc basin and pail put out
to sweeten in the air.

"She won't leave us behind this time!" I cried, turning triumphantly
to Fred.

"Take care of the pie," said Fred.

It was a meat-pie which he had taken from the larder this morning;
but he had told Mrs. Johnson about it in the letter he had left behind
him; and had explained that