James was leaning half-way out of the window, his cap pushed on one
side of his head, and, not knowing Frank, he accosted him, as he came
up, with his favorite expression.
"Hallo, old beeswax! Saw-logs must have been cheap when you had that
boat built. You've got timber enough there to finish off a good-sized
barn."
Frank, of course, made no reply; and, in a moment more, the hack was
out of sight.
They soon reached the wharf, in front of the house, and Frank helped
Julia out, and, after making his boat fast, started toward the house,
and entered the room where their visitors were seated.
His aunt's greeting was cold and distant, and she acted as if her
every motion had been thoroughly studied. James's acknowledgment was
scarcely more than agreeable. To Frank's inquiry, "How do you do,
sir?" he replied,
"Oh, I'm bully, thank you, old beeswax. Not you the cod I twigged[A]
navigating that scow up the creek?"
[Footnote A: Saw.]
Frank acknowledged himself to be the person, and James continued,
"I suppose she's the champion yacht, isn't she?"
"Yes," answered Frank, "she is.
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