"Box lid in the floor! Why, it's the hatch; and it isn't the floor, it's the deck; and I shall take it off and fill the hold with little lumps of coal." "Oh, yes! I know that.

It's called the 'hold' because it holds so much." The boy took no notice, but went on:--"And I must have a big gun, like there is in front of Pa's ship, and a powder-magazine." "But you mustn't let it off," cried Dot.
"But I shall let it off, and you may run away.

Oh! what silly things girls are!" and he began to return.
Dot was pouting because she was called silly, but her pretty little face grew animated with trouble the next moment, for the Skipper was walking backwards, so as to keep his eyes fixed upon his sailing-boat.
"Oh! Bob, Bob, mind, or you'll tumble in." "Hoo! hoo! hoo!" he cried, and began to stamp about, and pretended to stagger as if on the point of falling, while Dot screamed aloud in agony and turned white.
This was too much for the boy.

He turned and ran back to her side, to catch her in his arms and kiss her.
"Oh, don't! don't cry, poor little old girl," he cried, kissing her wet face again, while she clung to him.
"You--you shouldn't, Bob," she sobbed.

"You did frighten me so." "And I was only pretending," he said soothingly, as he hugged her, and led her along the sand, with his arm about her little waist.
"It--it did hurt, Bob," she sighed, with a smile beginning to struggle through the clouded face.
"There, I won't do so any more," he whispered lovingly, "and----" "Ship ahoy!" came in a hearty shout, and with the steam just beginning to appear fairly from out of the funnel, the trouble was forgotten.
"Here's Pa come!" cried the boy, and he set off to run.
"Oh, Bob! please," came after him plaintively, and the Skipper turned and hurried back, to catch his sister's hand.
"Now then, fast as you can!" he panted.