y intruder. Its
faded cover, with two ancient ink-blots which answered for eyes,
fostered this idea, which was a disquieting one. On the wall hung two
silver coffin-plates in a glass case, testifying that Freeborn Scraper,
and Elmira his wife, had been duly buried, and that their coffins had
presented a good appearance at the funeral. But the glory of the room,
in the boy John's eyes, was the cabinet of shells which stood against
the opposite wall. He had once thought this the chief ornament of the
world; he knew better now, but still he regarded its treasures with awe
and veneration, and looked to see the expression of delight which should
overspread the features of his new friend at sight of it. What, then,
was his amazement to see his new friend pass over the cabinet with a
careless glance, as if it were the most ordinary thing in the world!
Evidently, it was not shells that he had come to see; and the boy grew
more and more mystified. Suddenly the dark eyes lightened; the whole
face flashed into keen attention. What had the Skipper seen? Nothing,
apparently, but the cupboard in the corner, the old cupboard where Mr.
Scraper kept his medicines. The old man had sent John to this cupboard
once, when he himself was crippled with rheumatism, to fetch him a
bottle of the favourite remedy of the day. John remembered its inward
aspect, with rows of dusty bottles, and on the upper shelf, rows of
still more dusty papers. What could the Skipper see to interest him in
the corner cupboard? Something, certainly! For now he was opening the
cupboard, quietly, as if he knew all about it and was looking for
something that he knew to be there.

"Ah!" said the Skipper; and he drew a long breath, as of relief. "True,
the words! In the corner of the parlour, a cupboard of three corners,
with bottles filled, and over the bottles, papers. Behold the cupboard,
the bottles, the papers! A day of fortunes!" He bent forward, and
proceeded to rummage in the depths of the cupboard; but this was too
much for John's conscience. "I beg your pardon, sir!" he said, timidly.
"But--do you think you ought to do that?"

The Skipper looked out of the cupboard for an instant, and his eyes were
very bright. "Yes, Colorado," he said. "I think I ought to do this! Oh,
very much indeed, my friend, I ought to do this! And here,"--he stepped
back, holding something in his hand,--"here, it is done! No more
disturbance, Colorado; I thank you for your countenance.