to
see if his nephew was sleeping free from fever and pain, and then stole
out again without making a sound.

CHAPTER EIGHT.

The breakfast the next morning was rather late, consequent upon Captain
Lawrence and his nephew dropping off each into a deep sleep just when it
was about time to rise; but it was a very pleasant meal when they did
meet, for the removal of a great weight from Aleck's mind allowed some
other part of his economy to rise rampant with hints that it had missed
the previous day's dinner. There was a pleasant odour, too, pervading
the house, suggesting that Jane had been baking bread cakes and then
frying fish.

Aleck noticed both scents when he threw open his window to let the
perfume of the roses come in from the garden; but the kitchen windows
and door were open, and the odour of the roses was regularly ousted by
that of the food.

"My word! It does smell good," said the boy to himself, and his lips
parted to be smacked, but gave vent to the interjection "O!" instead,
for the movement of the articulations just in front of his ears caused a
sharp pain.

"That's nice!" muttered Aleck. "How's a fellow to eat with his jaw all
stiff like that?"

This reminder of the previous day's encounter brought with it other
memories, which took the lad to the looking-glass, and the reflection he
saw there made him grin at himself, and then wince again.

"Oh, my!" he said, softly. "How it hurts! My face feels stiff all
over. I do look a sight. Can't go down to breakfast like this, I know;
I'll stop here, and Jane will bring me some up. One can't stir out like
this."

Grasping the fact that it was late, the boy dressed hurriedly, casting
glances from time to time at the birds which sailed over from the sea,
and at old Dunning, the gardener, who was busy digging a deep trench for
celery, and treating the soft earth when he drove in the spade in so
slow and tender a way that it seemed as if he was afraid of hurting it.

Aleck noted this, and grinned and hurt himself again.

"Poor old 'Nesimus," he said, feeling wonderfully light-hearted; "he
always works as if he thought it must be cruel to kill weeds."

The boy had a good final look at the old man, who wore more the aspect
of a rough fisherman than a gardener. In fact he had pursued the former
avocation entirely in the past, in company with the speculative growing
of fruit and vegetables in his garden patch--not to sell to his
neighbours, th