mothy Bone, the bo'sun,' like you were last time.

"Impossible, my Imp," I said firmly. He looked at me incredulously for
a moment, then, seeing I meant it, his lip began to quiver.

"I didn't think 'T-Timothy B-Bone' would ever desert me," he said, and
turned away.

"Oh, auntie!" exclaimed Dorothy, "won't you take us?"

"Dear--not this morning."

"Are you going far, then, Uncle Dick?"

"Yes, very far," I answered, glancing uneasily from the Imp's drooping
figure to Lisbeth.

"I wonder where?"

"Oh--well--er--down the rivers," I stammered, quite at a loss.

"Y-e-s, but where?" persisted Dorothy.

"Well, to--er--to--"

"To the 'Land of Heart's Delight,'" Lisbeth put in, "and you may come
with us, after all, if Uncle Dick will take you."

"To be sure he will, if your auntie wishes it," I cried, "so step
aboard, my hearties, and lively!" In a moment the Imp's hand was in
mine, and he was smiling up at me with wet lashes.

"I knew 'Timothy Bone' could never be a--a 'mutinous rogue,'" he said,
and turned to aid Dorothy aboard with the air of an admiral on his
flagship.

And now, all being ready, he unhitched the painter, or, as he said,
"slipped our cable," and we glided out into midstream.

"A ship," he said thoughtfully, "always has a name. What shall we call
this one? Last time we were 'pirates' and she was the Black Death--"

"Never mind last time, Imp," I broke in; "to-day she is the Joyful
Hope."

"That doesn't sound very 'pirate-y,' somehow," he responded with a
disparaging shake of the head, "but I s'pose it will have to do."

And so, upon that summer morning, the good ship Joyful Hope set sail
for the "Land of the Heart's Delight," and surely no vessel of her size
ever carried quite such a cargo of happiness before or since.

And once again "Scarlet Sam" stamped upon the "quarter-deck" and roared
orders anent "lee shrouds" and "weather braces," with divers
injunctions concerning the "helm," while his eyes rolled and he
flourished his "murderous cutlass" as he had done upon a certain other
memorable occasion. Never, never again could there be just such
another morning as this--for two of us at least.

On we went, past rush and sedge and weeping willow, by roaring weir and
cavernous lock, into the shadow of grim stone bridges and out again
into the sunshine, past shady woods and green uplands until at length
we "cast anchor" before a flight of steps leading up to a particularly
worn ston