far wrong!' he says; and then he gave Daddy the dictionary, too,
Imogen; but I sha'n't tell you about that, because it's a brute, and
I hate and 'spise it. But--well! _so_, you see, _that_ was the way
I got my Willum Shakespeare, my joy and my pride, my--"

At this moment a shadow fell upon the grass, and a deep, gruff voice
was heard, saying, "Star, ahoy!" The child started up, and turned
to meet the newcomer with a joyous smile. "Why, Bob!" she cried,
seizing one of his hands in both of hers, and dancing round and round
him. "Where did you come from? Why aren't you on the boat?"

"Boat's aground!" replied the person addressed as Bob. He spoke in
short, jerky sentences. He was dressed as a seafaring man; had wide,
helpless-looking brown eyes, an apologetic smile, and a bass voice
of appalling depth and power. "Boat's aground," he repeated, seating
himself on the grass and looking about for a stem of grass long enough
to put in his mouth. "Hard and fast. Waiting for tide to turn; thought
I'd come, pass time o' day."

"And how came you to run her aground?" inquired the child, severely.
"A pretty pilot you are! Why, I could steer her myself better than
that."

"Fog!" replied the man, in a meek and muffled roar. Then finding a
bit of sorrel, he fell upon it with avidity, and seemed to think he
had said enough.

"H'm!" said Star, with a disdainful little sniff. "You'd better get
Daddy to steer your boat. _He_ doesn't mind fog. Are there many people
on board?" she added, with an air of interest.