ain
had come to work with a scythe over his shoulder. "What looks lovely
this morning?"

"Eh? Why, the sea, of course. Wish I was afloat, 'stead of having to
shave this lawn, like a wholesale barber. Got any noos?"

"Yes, Barney," said the boy, bitterly; "I'm to go to sea."

"Hurray!" cried the old boatswain, rubbing his scythe-blade with the
stone rubber, and bringing forth a musical sound.

"You're glad of it, then?"

"Course I am, my lad. Be the making on you. Wish I was coming too."

"Bah!" ejaculated Sydney, and he left the old boatswain to commence the
toilet of the dewy lawn, while in a desultory way, for the sake of doing
something to fill up the time till breakfast, he strolled round to the
back, where a loud whistling attracted his attention.

The sound came from an outhouse, toward which the boy directed his
steps.

"Cleaning the knives, I suppose," said Sydney to himself, and going to
the door he looked in.

The tray of knives was there waiting to be cleaned, and the board and
bath-brick were on a bench, but the red-faced boy was otherwise engaged.

He was kneeling down with a rough, curly-haired retriever dog sitting up
before him, with paws drooped and nose rigid, while Pan was carefully
balancing a knife across the pointed nose aforesaid.

Pan was so busily employed that he did not hear the step, and the first
notification he had of another's presence was given by the dog, who
raised his muzzle suddenly and uttered a loud and piteous whine directed
at Sydney--the dog's cry seeming to say, "Do make him leave off."

The glance the boatswain's son gave made him spring at the board, snatch
up a couple of the implements, and begin to rub them to and fro
furiously, while the dog, in high glee at being freed from an arduous
task, began to leap about, barking loudly, and making dashes at his
young master's legs.

"Poor old Don--there!" cried Sydney, patting the dog's ears. "He don't
like discipline, then. Well, Pan, when are you going to sea?"

"Not never," said the boy, shortly.

"Yes, you are. Your father said he should send you."

"If he does I shall run away, so there," cried the boy.

Sydney turned away, and walked through the garden, his head bent, his
brow wrinkled, and his mind so busily occupied, that he hardly heeded
which way he went.

"If his father sends him he shall run away."

Those words kept on repeating themselves in Sydney's brain like some
jingle, and he found