"Amas Cottle, Phoebus, what a name! What could tempt your mother to call you after the old patriarchal navigator! Ha! ha! it was a queer dodge." "It was my father's name," said I, reddening; for, besides being bitterly mortified and disappointed, I by no means relished the joke; "and my father, though poor, was an honest man!" "Both cases _rather_ doubtful," said the Squire, laughing to himself. Then, slapping me pretty sharply on the shoulder, he said,--"And what, my lad, do you know of your father?" "Nothing, personally; to the best of my knowledge I never saw him; but my mother has told me a good deal about him." "Humph!" said Mr. Carlos. "Did she tell you how much she was attached to Mister Noah Cotton, and how grieved she was to part with such a tender, loving spouse?" "Sir, Mr. Carlos,--do you mean to insult me by speaking in this jeering way of my parents?" "Not in the least, Noah; so don't look at me with that fierce black eye, as if you took me for a hare or a pheasant, or, worse than either, for Bill Martin. _You_ ought to know that I am your friend,--have been your friend from a child; and if you continue to conduct yourself as you have done, will befriend you for life." I looked, I am sure, very foolish, for I felt his words rankling in my heart; and, though I affected to laugh, I strode on by his side in silence; the chain of obligations he had wound around me, and my dependence upon him, tightening about me, and galling me at every step. He certainly saw that I was offended, for, stopping at the gate which led from the park to the Hall-gardens, where our roads separated, he said, rather abruptly,-- "You are angry with me, Noah?" "With you, sir?--that would be folly." "It would, indeed. I see you can't bear a joke." "Not very well." "You don't take after your father, then, for he loves a joke dearly." "Is my father alive?" I cried, eagerly. "Of course he is." "My mother don't know this." "As well as I know it. Women have all their secrets. They don't tell us all they know. One of these days you'll hear more about this mysterious father, depend upon it." I longed to ask him all he knew upon the subject, but we were not on terms of familiarity to warrant such a liberty. He was my master, and it was his part to speak--mine to listen. Presently he turned the subject into another channel altogether.