As soon as he had got his wind back Frank turned to the others, and was at once seized by his companions and raised on their shoulders, and then carried in triumph to a carriage where some ladies sat. A tall clergyman approached, and he said,—
"You rowed splendidly, number three; wonderful, considering, as I am told, you had no training for the race. I hope you will be none the worse for it. Will you have some champagne?"
Nightingale.
Frank could not resist a mighty draught of the cool wine, although it is anything but a good thing to take at such a time. An orange is the best thing,—it slakes the thirst, and does no injury to the stomach. The clergyman turned out to be Marston's father, and his mother and sisters were in the carriage. They invited our three boys to dine with them that evening; and after the yacht had been taken to her moorings near the railway bridge, the boys walked a mile out of the town to Mr. Marston's house, and there spent a very pleasant evening. After dinner they played croquet, and once, when it was Frank's turn to play it was found that he was totally oblivious of the game, and had his eyes fixed on an elegant brown bird which was flitting about the shrubs in the garden.
"Now then, Frank," said Marston, "it is your turn." Frank played and then asked,
"Is not that bird a nightingale?"
"Yes, her nest is at the bottom of that bush. Watch how she goes to it."