reenidge slept.

"He sleeps in Number Seven. Why?"

"Oh! I only wanted to know."

Gabriel Bennet could not sleep. His mind was too busy with the events of
the day. All night long he could think of nothing but the strong figure
of Jim Greenidge erect in the summer night, then plunging silently into
the black water. When it was fairly light he hurried on his clothes, and
passing quietly along the hall, knocked at the door of Number Seven.

"Who's there?" cried a voice within.

"It's only me."

"Who's me?"

"Gabriel Bennet."

"Come in, then."

It was Abel Newt who spoke; and as Gabriel stepped in, Newt asked,
abruptly,

"What do you want?"

"I want to speak to Jim Greenidge."

"Well, there he is," replied Newt, pointing to another bed. "Jim! Jim!"

Greenidge roused himself.

"What's the matter?" said his cheery voice, as he rose upon his elbow and
looked at Gabriel with his kind eyes. "Come here, Gabriel. What is it?"

Gabriel hesitated, for Abel Newt was looking sharply at him. But in a
moment he went to Greenidge's bedside, and said, shyly, in a low voice,

"Shall I black your boots for you?"

"Black my boots! Why, Gabriel, what on earth do you mean? No, of course
you shall not."

And the strong youth looked pleasantly on the boy who stood by his
bedside, and then put out his hand to him.

"Can't I brush your clothes then, or do any thing for you?" persisted
Gabriel, softly.

"Certainly not. Why do you want to?" replied Greenidge.

"Oh! I only thought it would be pleasant if I could do something--that's
all," said Gabriel, as he moved slowly away. "I'm sorry to have waked
you."

He closed the door gently as he went out. Jim Greenidge lay for some time
resting upon his elbow, wondering why a boy who had scarcely ever spoken
a word to him before should suddenly want to be his servant. He could
make nothing of it, and, tired with the excitement of the previous
evening, he lay down again for a morning nap.

CHAPTER V.

PEEWEE PREACHING.

Upon the following Sunday the Rev. Amos Peewee, D.D., made a suitable
improvement of the melancholy event of the week. He enlarged upon the
uncertainty of life. He said that in the midst of life we are in death.
He said that we are shadows and pursue shades. He added that we are here
to-day and gone to-morrow.

During the long prayer before the sermon a violent thunder-gust swept
from the west and dashed against the old wooden church. As the Doctor