bay. He hoped to find
Marion in the vicinity of the old boathouse, but when he arrived there
nobody was in sight but Old Ben, who was mending one of his fishing
nets.

"Ha, Ben! are you alone?" he said, as he dismounted and came into the
boathouse.

"Yes, Massah St. John, I'm alone unless there's some ghostes hidin'
around yeah!" and the old negro smiled broadly. He understood St. John's
character pretty thoroughly and despised him accordingly.

"I thought Marion might be around here."

"She aint been yeah to-day, sah. She an' Jack was out on de bay in dat
awful storm yesterday and I reckon it was most too much fo' dem."

"Out in that awful storm! It's a wonder the boat didn't upset."

"Da was ober to de wrack when de big blow came."

"Did they stay there?"

"I went ober after 'em an' da come in dis mornin', Massah St. John."

"Humph! I am surprised that my aunt should trust Marion with that boy."

"Why not, Massah St. John? Jack can manage a boat as well as I can."

St. John tossed his head and flung himself down upon a seat. "I think my
aunt makes a fool of herself about that boy. Who is he, anyway? He's
only an ocean waif; of low birth, very probably."

"Dat he isn't!" said Old Ben indignantly. "He's a young gen'man, Jack
is, an' so was his father."

"Bah! what do you know about his father?"

"He couldn't be Jack's father without bein' a gen'man--dat's wot I
know," went on Ben stoutly. "Why, look at de deah chile! How noble
an'--an'--handsome he is!"

"Oh, pshaw, Ben! you had better stick to your nets. What do you know
about a gentleman?"

"I knows one when I sees one, Massah St. John," was the somewhat
suggestive response.

"Oh, do you? And I know an impudent nigger when I see one!" cried St.
John angrily.

"No offense, Massah St. John."

"Then be a little more careful of what you say." St. John tugged at the
ends of his stubby mustache. "I wish I had that boy under my care," he
went on.

"S'posin' you had, sah?"

"I'd teach him his place. Why should he be reared as a gentleman--he, a
poor waif of the sea? Probably he is the son of some low mechanic,
perhaps of a Northern mudsill, and my aunt--think of it, my aunt--must
bring him up as a Southern gentleman!" The young man leaped up and began
to pace the boathouse floor nervously. "I suppose she'll leave him a
large legacy in her will."

"I 'spect you is right, Massah St. John; dat boy will be pervided for,
suah as my name's Ben."

"Yo