Frank, of course, made no reply; and, in a moment more, the hack was
out of sight.

They soon reached the wharf, in front of the house, and Frank helped
Julia out, and, after making his boat fast, started toward the house,
and entered the room where their visitors were seated.

His aunt's greeting was cold and distant, and she acted as if her
every motion had been thoroughly studied. James's acknowledgment was
scarcely more than agreeable. To Frank's inquiry, "How do you do,
sir?" he replied,

"Oh, I'm bully, thank you, old beeswax. Not you the cod I twigged[A]
navigating that scow up the creek?"

[Footnote A: Saw.]

Frank acknowledged himself to be the person, and James continued,

"I suppose she's the champion yacht, isn't she?"

"Yes," answered Frank, "she is. There's no boat about the village that
can beat her."

"Ah, possibly; but, after all, you had better tell that to the
marines. I've seen too much of the world to have a country chap stuff
me, now I tell you, old beeswax."

We will not particularize upon James's visit. It will suffice to
relate one or two incidents that will illustrate his character.

A day or two after his arrival, he discovered the schooner standing on
Frank's bureau, and he could not be contented until he should see "how
she carried herself in the water," and Frank, reluctantly, carried it
down to the creek and set it afloat.

For a few moments James seemed to have forgotten his evil
propensities, and they amused themselves by sailing the schooner from
one side of the creek to the other. But he very soon grew tired of
this "lame, unexciting sport," as he called it, and, gathering up an
armful of stones, he began to throw them into the water near the
boat, shouting,

"Storm on the Atlantic! See her rock!"

"Please don't, James," urged Frank; "I'm afraid you will hit the
schooner."

"No fear of that," answered James, confidently, still continuing to
throw the stones; "I can come within a hair's-breadth of her, and not
touch her. Now, see."

And, before Frank could speak, away flew a large stone, with great
force, and, crashing through the mainsail of the little vessel, broke
both masts and the bowsprit short off.

"There," exclaimed Frank, "I was afraid you would do that."

James did not appear to be in the least sorry for it, but he skipped
up the bank, shouting, in an insulting tone,

"There's your boat, old beeswax. When do you expect her in port?"

Frank did not