"The proof, Willis."

"That plank."

"Well, what about the plank?"

"I recognise it."

"How, Willis?"

"How! Well," replied the obstinate pilot, "fish don't breed planks,
and--and--I scarcely think this one could escape from a dockyard, and
float here of its own accord."

"Then, Willis, according to you, there are no ships but the _Nelson_,
no ships wrecked but the _Nelson_, and no planks but the _Nelson's_.
Willis, you are a fool."

"Every one has his own ideas, Mr. Wolston."

Towards evening, when they were on their way back to Rockhouse, Sophia
confidentially called Willis aside, and he cheerfully obeyed the
summons.

"Pilot," said she, "I have made up my mind about one thing."

"And what is that, Miss Sophia?"

"Why, this--in future, when we are alone, as just now, you must call