The wind
was rising and soon snow began to beat against the window pane, and when
supper was eaten and the table cleared, and the two drew their armchairs
up before the fire, it was very cozy sitting there and listening to the
howling storm outside and the roaring fire in the stove. Jimmy, snugly
curled in his chair, was so still that Skipper Ed, silently smoking his
pipe, believed his little partner asleep, when he was startled out of
his musings by the request:
"Partner, tell me a story."
"A story, Partner? What kind of a story? One about the sea?"
"A story about people that live out there in the country Bobby came
from, and you came from."
"Oh, out there! Yes, to be sure!" Skipper Ed sat silent for a few
moments, gazing at the flickering light through a crack in the stove
door, while Jimmy sat expectant, gazing into Skipper Ed's face. At last
he began:
"Once there were two boys who lived in a fine big house, for their
father was rich. The house was in a town, and it had a great many rooms.
In front of it was a beautiful green lawn, over which were scattered
trees and bushes that bore flowers, and behind the house was a large
garden where delicious fruits and vegetables grew, and where there were
beautiful beds of bright flowers. Under the shady trees of this garden
was a favorite playground of the boys."
"What were the names of the boys?" interrupted Jimmy.
"We'll call them Tom and Bill, though these may not have been their real
names," explained Skipper Ed.
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