While he thought, the boy sat with his feet curled up under him on the long cabin seat that looks out on the sea; and his cheek was pressed against a little grimy hand. He could see the steel-blue waves moving toward the ship in wide scallops and the white sea-gulls flying between the ocean and the sky. Yet he hardly noticed them; so deeply was he thinking that he started when a hand was laid on his shoulder. Then he saw and pulled Aunt Nora down beside him. "What were you thinking of?" said she. "Of Ned," he answered. "He ain't so mean as I thought he was. At any rate, he ain't a coward." "I could have told you better than that," said Nora. "Why, Oscar, once I saw him hold a mad dog so that some little girls could run away. He held it until a man came running up and knocked the poor beast over the head. It was Ned's favorite dog, too, and when it had drawn its last breath he sat down and cried over it." "Humph," said Oscar, "he was pretty brave; what did you do?" "I was in the house; I ran down to him, but when I got there the dog was dying. I heard Ned say, 'Oh! please kill him quick. Poor Louis!'" "Guess he felt bad," said Oscar. "He is fond of animals, even those most people dislike. Didn't you hear of his collection of snakes? He has tamed them so that he can do anything with them. Once, most unluckily, they got out of the box and came down stairs into the drawing-room which was filled with ladies." "And they, every one, jumped on the chairs and hollered," said Oscar. "They did precisely that, Oscar; every one except your Aunt Lizzie. She stood still and told us how harmless the snakes were until, knowing her I suppose, they all glided up to her when _she_ climbed a chair, too, very quickly. Luckily Ned happened to be in the house and heard the commotion and ran in. He whipped the snakes up and wound them about his arm as coolly as though they had been pieces of rope." Oscar was evidently impressed. But his prejudice made a last rally. He muttered something about Ned's being a nice boy if he were not so "airy;" always "fussing about his clothes and talking in a mincing way--just like a New York boy." "Do you remember," said Nora, "how the boys plagued you in New York, merely because you didn't talk and dress quite as they do? Didn't you think it mean of them?" "Mean as dirt," Oscar said promptly; "and I made 'em sick of it, too. I guess they won't try it on another Western feller!" "But, my dear boy, don't you see you are doing the same thing? You tease Ned and make him unhappy because he doesn't dress and talk like the boys you know at home." Oscar shrugged his shoulders; then he laughed. "Maybe you're right, Aunt Nora. Anyhow I didn't mean to be mean and I'm willing to make up if Ned is!"