Dennis submitted his stout frame to a convulsive laugh, which for an instant gave him some resemblance to a dog shaking himself on emerging from the water, "Drownded in half a fathom," he exclaimed, hilariously. "I'll be dog-goned if that ain't the cutest, aunty! Why, I'm almost sorry we didn't overset the old boat, to show you. It would have livened you up fit to kill." "Dennis!" exclaimed Deely, her eyes flashing indignantly, "you ought to be ashamed." "Oh, never mind the boy," Aunty Losh soothingly interposed. "It's his natur' to be wild, ye know. He ain't never happy unless he's in some dare-devil scrape. But where's Sylvester?" Deely, with eyes cast down, appeared needlessly embarrassed. "He went up to Beaufort to market," she explained. Something in her tone caused Dennis to glance at her rather fiercely, as if he were jealous. "Yes, that suits _him_," he muttered, with a trace of contempt. "Market business is just about what Sylv is good for; that's what it is." "It aren't right to speak so of your only brother, Dennis," said Aunty Losh, mildly. "Oh, dog gone it!" (Dennis reverted to his favorite expletive.) "What does it matter whose brother he is? I speak my mind. Deely, don't look so down on me. What's the trouble?" "Only you're so rough," said the girl, laying her hand on his arm. "You know I love you, don't you, Dennie? But it goes against me to hear you talk so." He placed his own rough hand on her smooth one and patted it softly for an instant; then he moved it somewhat brusquely from its resting-place on his shoulder, and Deely drew away a step or two. "I _catch_ all the fish," he said, "and Sylv _takes_ 'em for himself." There seemed to be an undertone of double meaning in his remark. But the next instant he changed from gloom to sunny cheer. "Come, aunty, you mustn't stand here on the mud. I reckon you've been away so long you'll be kind o' glad to see the inside of the old cabin again; hey?" He was tall and sturdy, this Dennis De Vine; and though he could not have been described as handsome, his reddish hair and ruddy coloring, united with the glance of his blue eye and a certain good-humored Irish daring of expression, made his presence gay and attractive. Aunty Losh was quick to act on his suggestion, and they all went into the cabin, which despite its limited frontage spread out sufficiently, within, to afford rooms for the old woman and her two nephews. "Now, aunty," said the girl, "the tarrapin is most ready, and I'll brew you a good cup of yaupon. I was just cutting some to dry when you came." And thereupon Adela, taking a handful of the seasoned leaves from their place of storage in a cupboard, swung the kettle from the fire and proceeded to infuse this local substitute for tea. "My patience, but it's dear to my buddy and heart," Aunty Losh murmured, as she sipped from the smoking cup. "An' now tell me what's happened while I been away."