y uncle you got," he said, watching
her narrowly. "Cap'n Am'zon Silt----"

"Have I another relative? How jolly!" exclaimed Louise, clasping her
hands.

"Ye-as. Ain't it? Jest," Cap'n Abe said. "Ahem! your father never
spoke of Cap'n Am'zon?".

"I don't believe daddy-prof even knew there was such a person."

"Mebbe not. Mebbe not," Cap'n Abe agreed hastily. "And not to be
wondered at. You see, Am'zon went to sea when he was only jest a boy."

"Did he?"

"Yep. Ran away from home--like most boys done in them days, for their
mothers warn't partial to the sea--and shipped aboard the whaler _South
Sea Belle_. He tied his socks an' shirt an' a book o' navigation he
owned, up in a handkerchief, and slipped out over the shed roof one
night, and away he went." Cap'n Abe told the girl this with that
far-away look on his face that usually heralded one of his tales about
Cap'n Amazon.

"I can remember it clear 'nough. He walked all the way to New Bedford.
We lived at Rocky Head over against Bayport. Twas quite a step to
Bedford. The _South Sea Belle_ was havin' hard time makin' up her crew.
She warn't a new ship. Am'zon was twelve year old an' looked fifteen.
An' he was fifteen 'fore he got back from that v'y'ge. Mebbe I'll tell
ye 'bout it some time--or Cap'n Am'zon will. He's been a deep-bottom
sailor from that day to this."

"And where is he now?" asked Louise.

"Why--mebbe!--he's on his way here. I shouldn't wonder. He might step
in at that door any minute," and Cap'n Abe's finger indicated the store
door.

There was the sound of a footstep entering the store as he spoke. The
storekeeper arose. "I'll jest see who 'tis," he said.

While he was absent Louise laid aside her hat and made a closer
inspection of the room and its furniture. Everything was homely but
comfortable. There was a display of marine art upon the walls. All the
ships were drawn exactly, with the stays, spars, and all rigging in
place, line for line. They all sailed, too, through very blue seas, the
crest of each wave being white with foam.

Flanking the model of the brigantine on the mantle were two fancy shell
pieces--works of art appreciated nowhere but on the coast. The designs
were ornate; but what they could possibly represent Louise was unable to
guess.

She tried to interest the canary by whistling to him and sticking her
pink finger between the wires of his cage. He was ruffled and dull-eyed
like all old bir