_John._ There’s another beauty. I tell you what, Mother Gale, I’m going to turn over a new leaf with these boys. I won’t have so much of this shirking work. Sept. shall sell that boat; and March--
_Mrs. Gale._ Why, you ugly old bear! what’s the matter with you? Turn over a new leaf indeed! Well, that’s a good one. Only this morning you were blessing your stars you had two such boys,--the best and smartest--
_John._ Humbug! you don’t know what you are talking about. I tell you they’re a good-for-nothing, lazy pair of--Hallo! here’s Raymond. (_Enter MR. R., R._)
_Ray._ Halloo, Gale! back already? what luck?
_Raymond._ I’m sorry for that. But, Gale, my daughter has been telling me a strange story about these boys. They’re not yours.
_John._ Who says they ain’t? I’d like to know who’s a better right to ’em.
_Ray._ Well, well, I’m not going to dispute it. But I _would_ like to hear the story from your lips.
_John._ It’ll be a precious short one, I can tell you. Well, they _ain’t_ my boys. They were shipwrecked on the coast twenty-three years ago.
_John._ Yes, exactly twenty-three years ago, in the month of September, we were awakened one night by the booming of guns off shore. ’Twas a black night, I tell you,--a roaring gale, the sea dashed over the rocks almost to our door, and the rain poured in torrents. We hastened to the beach. Half a mile off, stuck fast in the sands, was a ship, blue-lights burning and cannons firing. It was no use: mortal man could not reach her in such a sea. In the morning, scattered pieces of the wreck, a few dead bodies, and a live baby, was all there was left of her.
_John._ Yes, our Sept. A precious tough time he had of it, I can tell you: we thought he’d die; but mother’s care and a healthy constitution brought him through, and there is not a smarter boatmen or a better lad on all the coast than our Sept., if I do say it.
_Mrs. Gale._ Why, John, you said just now--
_John._ What’s the use of talking about what I said just now? You never did take kindly to him; but I say he’s the best lad--
_Mrs. Gale._ John Gale, you’re stark, staring mad! Don’t I idolize ’em both?
_John._ Well, he came in the same way. ’Twas very queer; but the very next March, in a blinding storm, we were again turned out at night by the booming of guns. Another ship in the sands; more blue lights; in the morning, more wreck, more dead bodies, and another live baby.