"I know they do, confound their skins!" the captain roared, springing
to his feet in his excitement. "Haven't I heard it on all sides? They
twist every blessed thing he does into badness, and then account fer it
all by sayin' that he is a pauper. But, by jinks! there isn't an ounce
of badness about that boy. I've taken an interest in him simply
because--well, mebbe I'm a cranky cuss--and when I see people down on a
lad, I like to take his part. And look here, parson, I'm givin'
warnin'."

"What warning?" questioned the clergyman, shrinking back from the huge
fist which was suddenly thrust toward his face.

"Warnin' to you, parson, not to bury any one I knock out who interferes
with that lad of yours. It'll be sich a clear case of suicide that ye
won't dare to read the Burial Service over him. Everybody knows now
that I've taken that boy under my care, and if any one runs aginst my
fists it won't be an accident, but a clear case of self-destruction,
and it won't be necessary to hold an inquest."

Both Mr. and Mrs. Royal smiled at the captain's quaint expression of
loyalty to Rodney.

"I trust there'll be no more trouble," the clergyman replied. "Come,
fill up your pipe again. My city friend would be delighted to know
that Rodney's able champion enjoyed the tobacco he sent."

"Well, I don't care if I do," and the captain knocked the cold ashes
out of his pipe. "I'll fill up, and then git home. But there is one
thing I want to ask ye, and that's what brought me over here to-night.
Me and Betsey are pretty lonely at times. We never see a child around