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She thought she came out of pure kindness for the boy, because "that old gimlet never would let him come alone, and the child was fairly possessed about the shells;" but it is to be doubted whether she would have come so often if it had not been for Franci's admiring glances and Rento's deeper veneration, which seldom dared to look higher than the hem of her gown.
Franci's smile deepened as he turned toward the boy, swearing softly in Spanish, and feeling in his breast; but at that moment Rento happened to stroll that way, blushing deeply at Lena's nearness, yet with a warlike expression in his bright blue eyes.
The wind was fair, the tide was setting out. What should keep them longer here? The sails were hoisted to the tune of "Baltimore," and Rento's gruff bass and Franci's melting tenor were mingled for once in friendly harmony. "I wish I was in Baltimore! lo! A-skating on the sanded floor. A long time ago! Forever and forever, lo! Forever and forever, boys, A long time ago!"
It was always a trial to Franci to know that the old miser, as he called Mr. Endymion, was in the cabin, and that he, Franci, must keep watch on deck while this withered anatomy sat on the cabin chairs and drank with the Patron. Franci's way of keeping watch was to lie at full length on the deck with his feet in the air, smoking cigarettes.
He spoke in Spanish, and Franci replied in the same language, with a faint voice expressive of acute suffering. "I am very sick, Patron. I go to my bed in a desolated condition." "Come here, and let me look at you!" said the Skipper, imperatively. "Am I a dog, to fetch drink for this beggar brat?" was Franci's next remark, in a more vigorous tone. "Was it for this that I left San Mateo?
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