"I'd like it," he mused, "but, by thunder, that loafer's worse 'n a temperance lecture." And he threw the whiskey out of an open window. The bottle he placed behind the screen; then, with one last disgusted look at his host, whose head was hanging sideways with the mouth open, he left the house. CHAPTER XI THE NEWPORT LETTER Blake went back through the grove of firs to the cove bank and there he saw the boy again. He had sunk down on his back and, as Blake approached, appeared to be asleep. The man stooped over him. "Hello, kid," he said. As the boy did not move, Matt shook him gently by the shoulder. Bert jumped up with a start. "I didn't--didn't hear you," he said. Then, looking up and seeing that it was a stranger, he got to his feet. "Does--does Uncle Nick want me?" he asked. Blake shook his head. "No, he's busy. You better go down the road with me." "He told me--told me to wait for him," said the boy. "Well, he doesn't want you now. He wants you to go along with me. I've just left him." Upon this the boy followed obediently, and they walked together over the field to the road. Blake occasionally looked at the unsmiling young face as he cogitated on Gayne's plans for the lad. "Like it pretty well here?" he asked. "No--yes--I don't know," was the answer. The delicacy and refinement of the boy's face, and the utter hopelessness of it, stirred his companion, as he considered the one he had left in the tattered armchair. They walked on in silence until they had nearly reached the little island cemetery. Then the boy's long lashes lifted. He seemed to be gazing at the shafts and headstones. "Uncle Nick says the--the ghosts don't have far to walk," he remarked. The carpenter put his hand on Bert's shoulder. "Stuff and nonsense," he said. "You're too big a boy to believe that foolishness." The dark eyes regarded him. "That's what Mrs. Lowell says. She says God takes care of us." The carpenter nodded. "That's right," he returned emphatically. "I hope He's got His eye on you right now and will see you through. You tie to Mrs. Lowell and you believe what she says." "Uncle Nick doesn't want me to. He says I'm--I'm better off alone." "You're the best judge of that, I should say," remarked Matt bluntly. "We're all entitled to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. I hope you'll get 'em, kid. Stand up for yourself. Do you like Mrs. Lowell?" "I--I don't know.--It isn't any use for me to--to like her. Uncle Nick doesn't." They began to pass hedges of wild roses. "She likes--likes flowers," added the boy. "Take her some, that's right, take her some," said Blake, stopping and going to the side of the road. "You won't tell Uncle Nick?" said Bert anxiously. "No, blast him, I won't tell him. Here, I've got a knife. They know how to defend themselves all right, don't they?"