“Oh, he has a great thing in his head, which he is thinking about all the time.  It has to do with the falls, and he has told me a whole lot about it.  He will be very rich some day, and we are going to have such a nice house of our own.  You see, I am to be his housekeeper, and nurse him when he is sick.”

It was a great pleasure for Captain Peterson to have David and Betty at the house.  No longer did he have to sit alone for hours upon the verandah as he had an audience now to listen to his tales of the sea and the places he had visited.  David was a good listener and enjoyed hearing the yarns, although he kept one ear open for the sound of the falls.  Nothing must interfere with his interest up there.

One afternoon the captain was speaking about England, and mentioned Liverpool.  David became unusually interested, and even let his pipe go out as he sat with his eyes fixed intently upon the captain’s face.

“You seem to know Liverpool pretty well,” he at length remarked, as the captain paused to re-light his pipe.

“Should say so,” was the reply.  “Guess I know about everything there worth knowing, especially along shipping lines.”

“There must be some big firms there, eh?”

“Big!  I should say so.  Why, I could name a dozen right offhand, which have ships sailing around the world.  Now, there’s the Dockett concern, for instance.  Holy smokes! but they’re wealthy.  If I told you the business they do you wouldn’t believe me.”

“No?” David laid his pipe upon the verandah railing.  He had to do it because his hand was trembling so violently that he could hold it no longer.

“Indeed you wouldn’t,” the captain continued, not noticing his companion’s agitation.  “And you should see old Dockett himself, who owns it all, so I understand.”

“What about him?” David asked in a voice scarcely above a whisper.  For once he had forgotten his beloved falls.

“Ho, ho, I wish you could see him,” and the captain leaned back and laughed as he had not laughed for months.  “He certainly is a queer one.”

“In what way?” David questioned.

“Well, it is hard to explain.  He looks like a bear, and he acts like one, too.  My, I’ve heard him get his tongue on men lots of times, and he is a holy terror.  But he’s a great business man, so I believe, and has made heaps of money.”

“What does he do with it?” David asked.

“Piles it up, I guess.  He hasn’t a chick to leave it to, so I understand.”

“Hasn’t he a wife?”

“No, not when I last heard of him, which was five years ago.  It isn’t likely he’s married since then.”

David was unusually quiet the rest of the day.  There was a far-away look in his eyes and nothing interested him, not even the voice of his falls.  Betty was quite anxious, and confided her trouble to Mrs. Peterson.

“Do you think he is going to be sick?” she asked.  “Suppose he should die, what will become of that great thing he has in his head?”