uncle. Did you think me long?"

"So long, my boy, that I was thinking of sending the boat to fetch you,
for fear you should be converted into a Frenchman. Hang them all! How
I do hate them and their nasty, smooth, polished ways!"

"Oh, uncle, you don't!" cried the boy indignantly. "I do, sir. How
dare you contradict me! And I won't have you getting too fond of that
French boy. He and his father set me thinking about old Bony, and as
soon as I begin thinking about Bony I have a nasty taste in my mouth.--
Well, how did you get on?"

"I had a most delightful afternoon, uncle. Young Morny--let's see, he's
Viscount Morny--"

"Viscount grandmother!" snapped out the doctor. "Anybody can be a
viscount in France if he's got an income of a few hundred francs--francs
in France of common silver. They rank with golden guineas in your grand
old home."

"Oh, well, I don't know, uncle I only know that he's the nicest fellow I
ever met."

"Gush!" cried the doctor. "I won't have it, Rodd. I won't have you
making too much of these French people. I don't like them."

"But you don't know them, uncle. Both the Count and his son are the
most gentlemanly men I ever met."

"The most gentlemanly men you ever met!" cried Uncle Paul mockingly.
"Nice puppy you are to set yourself up for a judge! Very gentlemanly,
to come in the dark with two boat-loads of savage-looking buccaneers to
seize our schooner! And they would, too, if it hadn't been for Captain
Chubb's courage."

"Oh, uncle, don't be unreasonable. The poor fellows were desperate.
Suppose you had been in such a position as they were."

"I am not going to suppose anything of the sort, sir," cried the doctor
indignantly; "and look here, Rodney, I will not have you setting up your
feathers like the miserable young cockerel you are, and beginning to
crow at me, just as if you were full grown. It's growing unbearable,
Rodney, and I won't have it, sir. I am very much displeased with you,
and you had better be off to your bunk at once before we come to an open
quarrel. It is too much, sir, and if your poor mother were alive and
could hear you talking like this she'd--she'd--she'd--there, I don't
know what she wouldn't say."

"I do," said the boy.

"What would she say, sir?" snapped out the doctor.

Rodd stood silent in the darkness for a few moments as he stole his hand
under the irate doctor's arm.

"She'd say that dear Uncle Paul had been thinking about old