“We should dearly like to have you tell us some stories about the sea, and places where you have been.”
“I will do so, with pleasure,” answered the old man, with a smile—and so pleasant a smile that Flora and Nellie could hardly believe he was the man whom folks talked about so badly.
“Thank you. How kind you are! Will you tell us one now?”
“I can’t very well, now. I have half a bushel of currants to pick before sundown.”
“O, we will all help you, Uncle Ben, if you will only tell us a sea story—won’t we, Nellie?”
“Yes, we will; there are five of us, and we can pick them as fast as any thing.”
“Just as you please, little misses.”
“We will go and call Frank, and Charley, and Katy,” shouted Flora, as she ran out of the yard, followed by Nellie.
They were much pleased with the success of their mission. They felt as smart as though they had conquered a wild tiger. They were sure now that Uncle Ben did not hate children, as people said he did.
The old man had his faults, and they were serious faults too; but he was not half so bad as folks said he was. He was cross, very cross, at times, and this made others impose upon him. When he saw that people were against him, without stopping to ask the reason, he began to hate them.