ou cannot think how much we would enjoy having him here," she said.
"He has such a kind, lovable nature, and is so bright and active. I do
hope it may be arranged that he may stay."

Captain Weston revolved the matter seriously, and concluded at length
that it should be left to Ralph's decision. What that decision would be
he could have had very little doubt, as he glanced toward the boy and
girl who were at that moment enjoying a swing under an orange tree of
unusual size, the vibrations of the rope occasionally bringing down some
of the golden fruit.

Ralph was in ecstasies at the proposition, and Camilla's bright face
lighted up with a pleasure that she did not try to conceal.

"Oh, how nice it will be!" she said. "I am so glad you are to remain."

A soft flush leaped to her cheeks as she spoke, and her beautiful eyes
expressed an artlessness that was very bewitching.

So it was settled that Ralph should remain in Cuba during the two months
which would probably elapse before the return of the Cristoval Colon to
Santiago. His mother (for he could not have endured to think of Mrs.
Weston in any other light) would be comforted by the knowledge that he
was in such good hands. And then how much he would have to tell her when
he should go home!

Captain Weston was greatly pleased with the plantation and its
management. He had seen much of Cuba, but never anything of this kind
which appeared so satisfactory. He walked and rode with the planter,
smoked his cigar with him, and admired his kind treatment of his slaves.

After a tarry of two days, he returned to the city, accompanied by the
planter and Ralph.

As the latter mounted the side of the Cristoval Colon, he met a merry
welcome from the tars, some of whom threw out sly innuendoes in their
sailor style about pearls and pearl-divers, but he did not permit their
harmless jokes to annoy him.

After a pleasant visit, Mr. Arthur returned to the plantation; but Ralph
did not accompany him, as he desired to remain some days with his father
during the vessel's brief stay in port.

He was not a boy who was afraid of work, and now, putting on his
everyday rig, he applied himself with a light heart to the duties of the
ship, lying stoutly back upon the slack of the tackle, while the sailors
hoisted the heavy articles of the cargo, or running aloft to loose the
sails for drying after the drenching night dews, and assisting to furl
them at evening.

"That boy is smart,"