come home some day rich as creases, as I heard parson say once."

"I hope you will, Joe. Will you write to me and tell me how you are
getting on?"

"Bless your life, I can do no more than make my mark. But maybe
I'll light on some scholard who'll write down out of my mouth, and
I'll make him limn a barrel on the paper, and then you'll know for
sure 'tis me."

This conversation had proceeded in whispers, but Joe's whisper was
sonorous, and I was in some fear lest Mistress Pennyquick, whose
room was hard by, should hear the rumble and take alarm. Yet I
could not refrain from keeping him while I told of the matter so
near my heart--the offer of Captain Galsworthy to take me as a
pupil. Joe listened very sympathetically.

"'Tis an ill wind blows no one good," he said. "That there barrel
makes a sailor of me; maybe 'tis to make a sojer of you."

"And what of Cyrus Vetch?" I could not help saying.

"Ah! Cyrus Vetch!" muttered Joe, looking troubled. "I be afeared
'twill make him a downright enemy to you, lad. But you'll grow, and
captain will learn you how to ply your fists, and when it comes to
a fight, mind of my fighting name, and punch hard."

Then, having promised to see his mother and do what I could to
console her, I wrung his hand and wished him well, and he climbed
out again by the window, and in the starlight I watched him carry