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.