“It was worse than that, a good deal worse. It might have been my last cruise. I'm pretty certain that I owe the captain my life.” She looked at him uncomprehendingly. “Your life?” she repeated. “I believe it. That part of the channel I proposed swimming was exactly where two men have been drowned, so people say. I'm not a very strong swimmer, and they were. So, you see.” Grace cried out in astonishment. “Oh!” she exclaimed. Then pointing toward the bay, she asked: “Out there, by the end of that leader, was it?” “Yes, that was it.” She drew a long breath. Then, after a moment: “And Nat spoke as if it was all a joke,” she said. “No doubt he did. From what I hear of your brother, he generally refers to his own plucky, capable actions as jokes. Other people call them something else.” She did not answer, but continued to gaze at the half-submerged “leader,” with the pine bough tied at its landward end to mark the edge of deep water, and the tide foaming through its lath gratings. “Your brother--” went on the minister. “He isn't my brother,” she interrupted absently. “I wish he was.” She sighed as she uttered the last sentence. “No, of course he isn't your real brother; I forgot. But he must seem like one.” “Yes,” rather doubtfully. “You must be proud of him.” “I am.” There was nothing doubtful this time. “Well, he saved me from drowning. I'm almost certain of that.” “I'm so glad.” She seemed to mean it. He looked at her. “Thank you,” he said drily. “I'm rather glad myself.” “Oh! I didn't mean it exactly that way. Of course I'm glad you weren't drowned, but I'm especially glad that--that one of our family saved you. Now you won't believe that Come-Outers are all bad.” “I never believed it.” She shook her head. “Oh, yes, you did,” she affirmed stubbornly. “You've heard nothing good of us since you came here. Don't tell fibs, Mr. Ellery.” “But I assure you--” “Nonsense! Does--well, does Cap'n Daniels, or his daughter, say anything good of us? Be honest, do they?” “I hardly think--that is, I shouldn't call their opinions unprejudiced. And, Miss Van Horne, perhaps the prejudice isn't all on one side. What did your uncle say about Cap'n Nat's meeting me the other day?” “Uncle Eben doesn't know. Nat didn't tell anyone but me. He doesn't boast. And uncle would be glad he helped you. As I told you before, Mr. Ellery, I'm not ashamed of my uncle. He has been so good to me that I never can repay him, never! When my own father was drowned he took me in, a little orphan that would probably have been sent to a home, and no father could be kinder or more indulgent than he has been. Anything I asked for I got, and at last I learned not to ask for too much. No self-denial on his part was too great, if he could please me. When he needed money most he said nothing to me, but insisted that I should be educated. I didn't know until afterwards of the self-sacrifice my four years at the Middleboro Academy meant to him.”