Frank began to fear that Tim had come into the club without a proper
understanding of its duties and requirements. Though he had, with an ill
grace, apologized for his conduct, he seemed to feel no compunction on
account of it; but, on the contrary, he every moment grew more
overbearing and insolent. He could not speak to his companions in a
gentlemanly manner, as they had been accustomed to be addressed. He was
course, rude, and vulgar; and the members, who had received him among
them in the best spirit possible, began to feel some repugnance towards
him.

But what could be expected of him in so short a time? They had no reason
to believe that a boy who had always been a desperado would suddenly
become a gentle and kind-hearted person. His nature wanted refining, and
such a work could not be done in a moment. These reflections came to
Frank's relief, when he had become well-nigh discouraged at the idea of
reforming Tim--discouraged more by thinking of the vast chasm that
yawned between what he was and what he ought to be. Like the pendulum in
the story, he was crowding the work of months and years into a single
instant. A little sober thought in the proper direction set him right.

The Butterfly was darting out of "Weston Bay" as they approached.

"Cease--rowing!" said Frank. "Now, my lads, let us give them three
rousing cheers. All up! One!"

"Hurrah!"

"Two."

"Hurrah!"