place where the sail-boat
was hauled up. He tried to look excited and indignant, and perhaps he
succeeded; though, as the old man preserved his equanimity, he had no
means of knowing what impression he had produced.

"Did you know the boat-house was burned up?" repeated Noddy, opening his
eyes as though he had made a discovery of the utmost importance.

"I did," replied Ben, as indifferently as though it had been a matter of
no consequence whatever.

"Why didn't you tell me about it?" demanded Noddy, with becoming
indignation.

"Because I decided that I wouldn't say a word about it to any person,"
answered Ben.

"How did it happen?"

"I haven't anything to say about it; so you mustn't ask me any
questions."

"Don't you know how it caught afire?" persisted Noddy.

"I've nothing to say on that subject."

Noddy was vexed and disheartened; but he felt that it would not be
prudent to deny the charge of setting it on fire before he was accused,
for that would certainly convict him. The old man was playing a deep
game, and that annoyed him still more.

"So you won't say anything about it, Ben?" added he, seating himself on
the pier.

"Not a word, Noddy."

"Well, I wouldn't if I were you," continued Noddy, lightly.

Ben took no notice of this sinister remark, thus exhibiting a presence
of mind which completely balked his assailant.

"I understand it all, Ben; and I don't blame you for not wanting to say
anything about it. I suppose you will own up when Mr. Grant comes home
to-night."

"Don't be saucy, Noddy," said the old man, mildly.

"So you smoked your pipe among the shavings, and set the boat-house
afire--did you, Ben? Well, I am sorry for you, you are generally so
careful; but I don't believe they will discharge you for it."

Ben was as calm and unruffled as a summer sea. Noddy knew that, under
ordinary circumstances, the boatman would have come down upon him like a
northeast gale, if he had dared to use such insulting language to him.
He tried him on every tack, but not a word could he obtain which
betrayed the opinion of the veteran, in regard to the origin of the
fire. It was useless to resort to any more arts, and he gave up the
point in despair. All the afternoon he wandered about the estate, and
could think of nothing but the unhappy event of the morning. Fanny did
not show herself, and he had no opportunity for further consultation.

About six o'clock Bertha returned with her father; and aft