Nautilus | Page 9

honour to descend to the cabin, where I take the pleasure of exhibit
remarkable collection of shells."
But now the Skipper raised his head, and became in a moment keenly
alert; for a new figure was seen making its slow way to the wharf,--a
new figure, and a singular one.
An old man, white-haired and wizen, with a face like a knife-blade, and
red, blinking eyes. The face wore a look of eager yet doleful
anticipation, as of a man going to execution and possessed with an
intense desire to feel the edge of the axe. His thin fingers twitched and
fumbled about his pockets, his lips moved, and he shook his head from
time to time. This old gentleman was clad in nankeen trousers of
ancient cut, a velvet waistcoat and a blue swallow-tail coat, all greatly
too large for him. His scant locks were crowned by a cheap straw hat of
the newest make, his shoes and gaiters were of a twenty-year-old
pattern. Altogether, he was not an ordinary-looking old gentleman, nor
was his appearance agreeable; but the village people took no special
notice of him, being well used to Mr. Endymion Scraper and his little
ways. They knew that he was wearing out the clothes that his
extravagant uncle had left behind him at his death, twenty years ago.
They had seen three velvet waistcoats worn out, and one of brocade;
there were sixteen left, as any woman in the village could tell you. As
for the nankeen trousers, some people said there were ten dozen of
them in the great oak chest, but that might be an exaggeration.
Walking just behind this pleasant old person, with feet that tried to go
sedately, and not betray by hopping and skippings the joy that was in
them, came the boy John; brought along in case there should be a

parcel to carry. Mr. Scraper had brought, too, his supple bamboo cane,
in case of need; it was a cane of singular parts, and had a way that was
all its own of curling about the legs and coming up "rap" against the
tender part of the calf. The boy John was intimately acquainted with the
cane; therefore, when his legs refused to go steadily, but danced in spite
of him, he had dropped behind Mr. Endymion, and kept well out of
reach of the searching snake of polished cane.
The Skipper greeted the new-comer with his loftiest courtesy, which
was quite thrown away on the old gentleman.
"Hey! hey!" said Mr. Scraper, nodding his head, and fumbling in his
waistcoat pocket, "got some shells, I hear! Got some shells, eh?
Nothing but rubbish, I'll swear; nothing but rubbish. Seen 'em all before
you were born; not worth looking at, I'll bet a pumpkin."
"Why, Deacon Scraper, how you do talk!" exclaimed pretty Lena
Brown, who was standing near by. "The shells are just elegant, I think;
too handsome for anything."
"All rubbish! all rubbish!" the old gentleman repeated, hastily.
"Children's nonsense, every bit of it. Have you got anything out of the
common, though? have you, hey?"
He looked up suddenly at the Skipper, screwing his little eyes at him
like animated corkscrews; but he read nothing in the large, calm gaze
that met his.
"The gentleman please to step down in the cabin," the Skipper said,
with a stately gesture. "At liberty in a moment, I shall take the pleasure
to exhibit my collection. The gentleman is a collector?" he added,
quietly; but this Mr. Scraper would not hear of.
"Nothing of the sort!" he cried, testily, "nothing of the sort! Just came
down here with this fool boy, to keep him from falling into the water.
Don't know one shell from another when I see 'em."
This astounding statement brought a low cry from John, who had been

standing on one foot with joy and on the other with fear, the grave
dignity of his new friend filling him with awe. Perhaps he would not be
noticed now, when all the grown people were here; perhaps--but his
thoughts were put to flight by Mr. Scraper's words. John was a truthful
boy, and he could not have the Spanish man think he had lied in saying
that the old man was a collector. He was stepping forward, his face
alight with eager protest, when Mr. Endymion Scraper brought his cane
round with a backward sweep, catching John on the legs with spiteful
emphasis. The Skipper saw it, and a dark red flushed through the
bronze of his cheek. His glance caught the child's and held it, speaking
anger, cheer, and the promise of better things; the boy dropped back
and rubbed his smarting shins, well content, with a warm feeling about
the heart.
"The gentleman will step down to