“Like one, eh?”

“Y’bet.  Me mouth’s waterin’.”

“Then, it’ll have to water.  These are for a prettier mouth than yours, let me tell you that.  My! you should see her, ’specially when she’s eating candy.”

“Your wife?” Eben asked.

Grimsby shook with laughter, as he carefully placed the paper back upon the box, and returned it to the grip.

“No, no, no, not for my wife this time, Eben.  It’s for someone else, a special friend of mine.  She’s up river now, and I’m going to see her.  She’s in a class all by herself, though just now, poor girl, she’s in trouble.”

“She is?” Eben was becoming interested.

“Yes, she ran away from home, you see, and her folks don’t know where she is.  Why, what’s wrong, boy?  You look scared.”

“D’ye mean Miss Randall?” Eben asked.  “Are them choc’lates fer her?”

“Ah, you’re a good hand at a guess, Eben,” and Grimsby smiled.  “Yes, I’m taking them to her.  She’d never forgive me if I forgot them.  Why, I’ve known Jess Randall ever since she was a baby,” he lied.  “She calls me ‘Uncle Gabe.’”

“She does!” Eben was more impressed than ever with Grimsby.

“Oh, yes, she’s a great friend of mine.  She must be waiting for me now, so you can pull up and run me ashore when we get there.  She phoned to me to come at once, as she wants to see me on special business.”

“I’m goin’ to stop, anyway,” Eben replied.  “Dad’ll be waitin’ fer me.  He went ashore with ma.”

It was only with difficulty that Grimsby repressed a chuckle of delight.  He could hardly believe it possible that Eben had fallen so easily into his snare.  But as he glanced at the boy he saw not the slightest sign of suspicion upon his face.  Eben’s hands were upon the wheel, and his eyes were fixed upon a steamer coming down river.  Grimsby was certain now that Miss Randall was at Mrs. Hampton’s.  So far he had met with remarkable success.  He wondered how much further he dare go.

“Guess it’ll he some wedding,” he ventured.  “I’ll have to get a brand new suit.”

“What weddin’?” Eben asked.

“Why, don’t you know?  Miss Randall’s, of course.  She’s going to marry Lord Donaster, that swell dude of a chap.”

“She’s not!” The words snapped, from Eben’s lips, and his hands gripped hard upon the wheel as he swung the boat somewhat to the left, while the steamer surged by.

“What makes you say that?” Grimsby questioned.  This was the first glimpse he had caught of the boy’s feeling, and he surmised its meaning.

“D’ye think she’d marry a thing like Donaster?” Eben contemptuously asked.  “She’s got more sense.”

“So you know her, then?” The question caught Eben off guard, and his face suddenly flushed.  Grimsby smiled.  “She came up with you, on your last trip, didn’t she?”

“How d’ye know that?” Eben’s hands let go of the wheel in his amazement.