“Especially his family,” suggested Uncle Moses, with a twinkle of the eyes. “Or a certain member of his family,” added the lady. “That’s all nonsense, mother!” exclaimed the young gentleman, with a bright blush on his face. Mr. Woolridge, the nabob who had invited Louis and his mother to sail in his yacht, had a beautiful daughter of fifteen, who had attracted the attention of the young man. After looking at her as he would have regarded a pretty picture, he had innocently spoken of her with considerable enthusiasm, calling her a sylph. This was before he became a “bloated bondholder,” and his mother had been afraid he would get into entangling relations with a maiden whose rich and aristocratic father would show him the door, and thus break his heart as well as that of the sylph. “I think you were very polite and attentive to Miss Blanche,” continued Mrs. Belgrave. “Wasn’t I as polite to Mrs. Woolridge?” demanded Louis, repelling the insinuation with energy. “If you were not, you ought to have been.” “And I was, mother; besides you are not consistent. You have consented to the purchase of a vessel for me, so that I can sail on my own hook rather than be dependent upon Mr. Woolridge. Why should I do that if I preferred the society of Miss Blanche?” “I think the defence has the argument,” added Uncle Moses. “But perhaps Sir Louis will invite the sylph to sail in his yacht. By the way, what is her name?” “The young lady’s, or the yacht’s?” “I should expect they would both have the same name, if it did not take an act of Congress to alter a vessel’s name. The young lady can change hers with less difficulty,” twinkled the squire. “The vessel is called the Oxford now, and one Blanche is enough.” “One among ten thousand--the girl, and not the vessel.” “I don’t think I shall change the name of either the young lady or the vessel,” added Louis. “We shall see the vessel to-morrow, and we will drop both her and the sylph for the present,” interposed Mrs. Belgrave. “Don’t you think it strange we hear nothing more from John Scoble?” She looked at her son as though she expected him to answer the question. She had an intense dread of the man who had been her husband for two years. Louis had met Scoble face to face a few weeks before, had stunned him with the blow of a stick, and escaped from him; but all this had been concealed from his mother to save her from anxiety and terror. “I have heard nothing of Scoble lately,” replied the son, meaning since he escaped from him; and he thought the subject had better be changed. “I hope you will go down to Southfield with us, Uncle Moses, and see the Oxford.” “I should be very glad to go if I could; but I have an engagement,” replied the squire. “Take Captain Ringgold with you if he will go. He knows all about vessels, and I know nothing at all.” “I will go over to his house and see him about it after supper.”