's
objections to the weed, and ready to send his life after that, if it
could afford her a moment's gratification.

"Ben," said he, looking after the tobacco as it was tossed from one wave
to another, and shaking his fist after it in virtuous indignation,
"that's a habit as you ought to be ashamed on, Ben Benson, a habit as no
dog wouldn't take from you on any account, yet you've just kept it up
chawing and chawing from morning till night, till she'll catch you at it
some day, and then you'll have done for yourself, and no mistake. I
should like to see her a-settin' in your boat arter that. Tobackee 'll
be the ruin of you yit, Ben. Grog's nothing to it."

A light step upon the moss silenced the boatman, but he kept his
position, resolved to be very severe with himself for his manifold sins,
this of tobacco being uppermost.

"Mr. Benson, you are kind, I am so much obliged!"

Ben started. The voice was a pleasant one, but his rough heart sunk low
with disappointment--the tones were not those of Mrs. Harrington.

"I could not possibly have reached home on foot," said the same sweet
voice, and a young lady sprang lightly into the boat. "I hope the river
will prove safe!"

"I was waiting for Mrs. Harrington, marm, and mistook you for
her--that's all," said Ben, without lifting his eyes to the singular
girl that stood close to him.

"Mrs. Harrington has gone down the river long ago--she passed that point
of land with the last sunbeam," said the young girl, seating herself
comfortably among the cushions.

"Are you sartin of that ere?" questioned Ben, taking up his oars
hurriedly. "Just give me her bearing, and I'll show you what rowing is."

"You can't possibly have a better pilot than I am," answered the lady,
laughing till a row of closely set but uneven teeth were visible in the
waning light. "In searching for Mrs. Harrington, you will naturally take
me homeward; when she is found, I will allow myself to be set ashore."

"The shore's no fit place for a young gal arter dark," said Ben gruffly,
but pushing his boat out into the stream. "For my part, I can't make out
what brings you up into the hills so often. Why don't you come home for
good and all? Miss Lina don't want any more vacation, I reckon."

"Oh, my health isn't quite established yet, Mr. Benson," said the girl,
looking at the boatman with a sidelong glance of her black,
almond-shaped eyes, a glance that Ben was internally comparing to that
of the rattl