ely, jocose saying that you must either
make yourself at home or go home. But on this occasion he rose with a
somewhat forced and awkward air, laid his pipe down on the mantel-piece,
and nodded to the Captain with an air of embarrassed inquiry. Then he
bethought himself, and asked the Captain to sit down. The Captain took
the nearest chair, beside the table, where Mrs. Parsons had lately been
sitting at her work. James's chair was directly opposite. The table was
between them.

James rose and went to the mantel-piece, scratched a match upon his
boot-heel, and undertook to light his pipe. It did not light; he did not
notice it, but put the pipe in his mouth as if it were lighted.

It occurred to Captain Pelham now, for the first time, absorbed as he
had been with exclusive thoughts of the boy, that he should first say
something to this old man about the daughter whom he had lost: and he
made some expressions of sympathy. The old man nodded, but said nothing.

There was silence for two or three minutes.

The subject in order now was inevitably the boy. Captain Pelham opened
his lips to claim him; but, almost to his own surprise, he found himself
making some common remark about the affairs of the neighborhood. It came
in harsh and forced, as if it were a fragment of conversation floated in
by the breeze from the street outside. Then the Captain waited a moment,
looking out of the window.

James took his pipe from his mouth and leaned his elbows on the table.
"Why don't you go take him?" he suddenly said: "he's probably down to
the wharf. Ef you have got the claim to him, why don't you go take him?
You 've got your team here,--drive right down there and put him in and
drive off; if you 've got the right to him, why don't you go take him?
But ef you 've come for my consent, you can set there till the chair
rots beneath you."

With this, James rose and took the felt hat which was lying by him on
the table, and saying not another word, went out of the door. He went
down to the shore, and affected to busy himself with his boat.

There was nothing for Captain Pelham to do but to take his hat, untie
his horse, and drive home.

The Captain well knew that nobody in the world had a legal right to the
child until a guardian should be appointed. A plain and simple path was
open before him: it was his only path. James Parsons had proved wilful
and wrong-headed; there was nothing now but to take out letters as
guardian of the b