There were maps, histories and all that he could wish, while the postmasters to whom he delivered mails were wont to give him each week papers which they had read and finished with, for though late in coming, it was all news to the lad, his mother, and old Peggy.
In fact, for the latter’s benefit, Mark had to read even the advertisements in the papers.
Some weeks after the departure of the yacht, Mark sailed up to B—— on business he had in view.
He had an idea of selling the vessel he had picked up, abandoned at sea, and fitting himself out for the naval school with part, leaving the balance for his mother’s use.
He decided to place the matter before good Judge Miller, as to his claim to the craft, and, perhaps, to consult Dr. Stone, who had seemed most friendly disposed to him.
He was skimming swiftly along in his surf-skiff when he beheld a small sailboat coming toward him.
There were two persons in it, and it did not take Mark long to recognize in one of them pretty Virgene Rich, and she held the tiller.
The other was a half-witted youth who hung about the dock, making odd pennies as best he could, and whom Mark had once rescued from a crowd of boys who were persecuting him, thus winning the undying friendship of poor Silly Sam, as he was called.
As a proof that they wished to speak to him, instead of standing away upon a tack when discovering his boat, Virgene brought her boat to and lay in the course of the surf-skiff.
“Ahoy, Master Mark, and come alongside, for Miss Virgie wishes to speak to you,” called out Silly Sam.