"But everybody's twitting me with being a lazy good-for-nothing, Sara,
and I can't stand it! Besides, I told Uncle Jabe I'd go, and now I've
got to."

"You can't; I forbid it!" her eyes flashing. "Go at once and tell him
that it is not to be thought of."

It was an unwise speech, as Sara instantly felt; for Morton, though he
could be coaxed into almost anything, was worse than a mule when driven.
Now the dogged look she was learning to dread settled over his face, and
he squared his shoulders sturdily.

"Well, I guess you'll find I can, Sara Olmstead, and it will take
somebody older and bigger'n you to stop me, too! So 'forbid' till you're
tired, if you like; I've given my word, and I'm going--that's settled!"

The poor girl's heart sank like lead, and she could have bitten her
unruly tongue out for those foolish words. She knew only too well that
Morton would have the support of nearly all their friends in Killamet,
who could see no reason why he should not follow his father's calling,
and begin, like him, at the bottom of the ladder, as "the boy."

Though they knew the hardness of the life, they reasoned that it "helped
toughen a youngster, and make a man of him." To them, Sara's ideas were
foolish and high-flown, their notion of a "gentleman" being too often
associated with city "lubbers" who came down to spy out the land--and
sea--in their ridiculous knickerbockers and helmets, and who did not
know a jib from a spanker, or had any idea when a sailor spoke of the
"hull" of his vessel, that he referred to anything but the sum of its
component parts! Gentlemen, as a class, were not held in high esteem at