ers?" he inquired.

"No, sir; but Jim Pulley and I feel very much as if we were," I
answered. "My name is Peter Trawl."

"And was thy mother a bumboat-woman, a true, honest soul, one of the
excellent of the earth?" he asked.

"Ay, ay, sir! That was my mother," I said, my heart beating with
pleasure to hear her so spoken of.

Then he told me that he was Mr Silas Gray, and asked if I remembered
the visits he used to pay to our house. Of course I did. The young
ladies and his son joined in the conversation, and very pleasant it was
to hear them talk.

We were out the whole afternoon, and it was quite late when we got back
to Portsea. Mr Gray said that he was going away the next morning with
his family to London, but that when he returned he would pay Mary a
visit, and hoped before the summer was over to take some more trips in
my wherry. He paid us liberally, and he and the young people gave us
kind smiles and nods as they stepped on shore.

While we were out I had not thought much about the fare we had brought
across from Gosport in the morning, but now, recollecting what he had
said, I hurried home, anxious to hear if he had found out the house. I
had not to ask, for directly I appeared Nancy told me that while Mary
was at school an impudent fellow had walked in and asked if old Tom
Swatridge had once lived there, and when she said "Yes," had taken a
note of everything, and then sat down and lighted his pipe, and told her
to run out and bring him a jug of ale.

"`A likely thing, indeed!' I answered him," said Nancy; "`what! When I
come back to find whatever is worth taking carried off, or maybe the
door locked and I unable to get in!' The fellow laughed when I said
this--a nasty sort of a laugh it was--and said, `Ay! Just so.' I
didn't know exactly what he meant, but presently he sang out, `What!
Are you not gone yet, gal?' `No, and I shan't,' I answered; `and when
Peter and Jim come in you'll pretty quickly find who has to go.' On
this he thundered out, trying to frighten me, `Do you know that I am old
Tom Swatridge's nephew and heir-at-law,' [I think that's what he called
himself], `and that this house and everything in it is mine, and the
wherry, and any money the old chap left behind him? I'll soon prove
that you and your brother are swindlers, and you'll be sent off to
prison, let me tell you.' He took me for Mary, do you see, Peter; and I
was not going to undeceive him? I felt somewhat nonp