"It's Sandboys," said Jack, gleefully. "I was afraid we wouldn't see him this year. He's been studying theelygy." "He'll never be any kind of a preacher," returned Bob, with a laugh at the idea. "He can't hardly open his mouth without tellin' a fish story or a bear story, and I don't think his kind of stories would do for sermons." At any rate, whatever the cause might have been, there Sandboys was, plying his old vocation, and apparently no further along in the study of theology than he had been when, a year before, he had bade the boys "good-by forever," with the statement that as he was going to be a missionary, the chances were they'd never see him again. "I don't see why the proprietor of this hotel keeps a careless hall-boy like that," said a cross old lady, upon whose dress Sandboys had managed to spill some of the water. "Well, you will see in a few days," returned an old maid who was sitting at her side, sharply. "Those two boys as has just come in is fearful noisy and lively, and that Sandboys last summer was the only person around here as could keep 'em quiet. When he wasn't around they was a-climbin' all over the men and a-settin' in the laps of all the ladies." "They look movey an' noisy," said the cross old lady, eying Jack and Bob narrowly. "Whose boys be they?" "They're cousins--their fathers is brothers. Their last name's Drake," replied the old maid. "Humph!" sneered the cross old lady. "Seems to me, if they behaves as you say they do, they'd oughter been named Gander. Gander's a good name for all boys, 'pears to me, anyhow, a-squawkin' an' a-sissin' around all the time." But Bob and Jack and Sandboys were blissfully unconscious of the severity of the old lady's criticism, and had eyes for the moment for none but each other. "Hull-lo!" cried Sandboys, joyfully. "You back again?" "Looks so, don't it?" said Jack. "Didn't expect to see you, though, Sandboys," said Bob. "Thought you'd be off preachin'. Given up theelygy?" "Sorter," said Sandboys. "Didn't like the prospect o' bein' et by Samoans and Feejees, so I thought I'd stick to bell-boyin' another season, anyhow; but I'll see you later, boys. I've got to hurry along with this ice-watter. It's overdue now, an' we've got the kickin'est lot o' folks here this year you ever see. One man here the other night got mad as hooky because it took forty minutes to soft bile an egg. Said two minutes was all was necessary to bile an egg softer'n mush, not understandin' anything about the science of eggs, where hens feeds on pebbles." "Pebbles?" cried Jack, astounded at the idea.