"Pooh! Jeff, are you so green as not to know that a wise man never puts his best foot foremost? Don't you know that it is usual, when a man makes a speech, to keep tumblin' out one point after another--clinkin' 'em all as he goes along--until he comes to the `last but not _least_' point? If you had let me alone, Molly, I was comin' to Rosebud and yourself too; but as you've been so unmannerly, I'll keep these points till another time. By the way, when you write to Rosebud, not a word about all this. It might unsettle the darlin' with her lessons. An' that reminds me that one o' my first businesses will be to have her supplied wi' the best of teachers--French, Italian, Spanish, German masters--Greek an' Hebrew an' Dutch ones too if the dear child wants 'em--to say nothin' o' dancin' an' drawin' an' calisthenics an' mathematics, an' the use o' the globes, an' conundrums o' that sort." "Really, brother, if you go on like this, I'll begin to think your good fortune, as you call it, has turned your brain." "Never fear, Molly, when I come to say what I'm going to do about the little church, an' the night-classes, an' the soup-kitchens, and the model-houses and the swimming-bath, you'll whistle another tune. But come, Jeff; it's time to ask how you are gettin' along. You look better, my boy." "I _am_ better, captain--much, _much_ better," returned the youth, with a flushed cheek and sparkling eye, "for I, too, have got news this morning of a fortune which exceeds yours in value, and the security is better." The captain was puzzled. "A fortune, Jeff?" "Yes; but my news will keep. You are too much excited to hear about it just now. Enough to say that I am much better. Now, if you are wise, you will go without delay and take some steps about this affair." "You're right, lad," returned the captain, rising quietly and clapping on his hat; "so good-bye to 'ee both. I'll soon be back. At present I'm off to consult my--my--solicitor! though I don't know who he is yet, more than the man in the moon." CHAPTER SEVEN. AN UNQUIET, ADVENTUROUS MORNING IN THE SHELL-CAVE. "I think," said Jeff Benson one fine morning, as he got up and stretched himself, "that I feel well enough to-day to get down to the shore without assistance. You know, auntie, I shall never be able to walk alone if I give way to laziness, and lean so much on others. I'm like the babies now, and must be encouraged to try it on my own hook." He looked at Miss Millet with a half-pitiful smile, for there was something woefully true in his words, and his good little nurse found it necessary to go in search of the household keys for a minute or so before answering. "Well, Jeff, perhaps you are right and the day is splendid--sunny, calm, and warm--so you won't be likely to catch cold. Only don't go far, for you might become tired out. So, promise that you won't go far, and then I will let you go."