When the boat had been made fast to the dock, and the first assistant had clambered ashore, the keeper whispered in Sidney's ear:
"I reckon, Sonny, you'll see a good many things you'd like to have, an', comin' away from the schooner as you did, it ain't likely you've got any great amount of money with you. Now jest take this, an' then you can hold your end up with Sammy, for I expect he'll try to make a terrible big showin' when we go into the shops."
"I don't want a thing, sir, indeed I don't," Sidney replied as he squeezed the old keeper's hand, but without taking the silver pieces which were in it.
"Mr. Peters can make all the showing of money he likes, and it won't make me feel queer."
"But I'd rather you was kind of independent, Sonny, an' it would do me a heap of good if you took it."
Sidney began to understand that Captain Eph would consider it a privilege to supply him with money, and he compromised the matter by saying:
"There isn't a thing that I would be likely to want, sir; but if I should see anything, I'll ask you to buy it for me."
"Will you really an' truly, Sonny?"
"Indeed I will, sir," the lad replied, and then the two joined Mr. Peters on the wharf.
The first assistant led the way up through the one street of the settlement as if he believed the new uniform he wore would cause a great deal of excitement, and he was, in fact, the center of attraction while he remained on shore, for even the children of the village had heard of the three old cronies who kept the light on Carys' Ledge, holding to their duties so closely as to visit the mainland no oftener than once in two or three years.