dollars. Already he has laid by half that amount; but how is he to get
the rest? He has begun to grow impatient. The yachting season has just
opened; every day the river is dotted with white sails; trials of
speed between the swiftest sailers come off almost every hour, and he
is obliged to stand and look on, or content himself with rowing around
in his skiff. It is true he has many friends who are always willing to
allow him a seat in their boats, but that does not satisfy him. He has
determined to have a yacht of his own, if there is any honest way for
him to get it. For almost a year he has carefully laid aside every
penny, and but half the necessary sum has been saved. How to get the
remainder is the difficulty. He never asks his mother for money; he is
too independent for that; besides, he has always been taught to rely
on his own resources, and he has made up his mind that, if he can not
_earn_ his boat, he will go without it.

Three or four days after the commencement of our story, Frank might
have been seen, about five o'clock one pleasant morning, seated on the
wharf in front of the house, with Brave at his side. The question how
he should get his boat had been weighing heavily upon his mind, and he
had come to the conclusion that something must be done, and that
speedily.

"Well," he soliloquized, "my chance of getting a sail-boat this season
is rather slim, I'm afraid. But I've made up my mind to have one, and
I won't give it up now. Let me see! I wonder how the Sunbeam [meaning
his skiff] would sail? I mean to try her. No," he added, on second
thought, "she couldn't carry canvas enough to sail with one of the
village yachts. I have it!" he exclaimed at length, springing to his
feet. "The Speedwell! I wonder if I couldn't make a sloop of her. At
any rate, I will get her up into my shop and try it."