Publisher's Synopsis
The man with the gold-headed cane had been headed for the cottage, but espying the boy at the water's edge, he changed his course. He crept to within a few paces of the lad before he hailed: "Halloo, little boy! I'll bet I know who your papa is." The boy looked casually around. Seeing that it was a stranger, he faced about and stood respectfully erect. "Mr. Welkie's little boy, aren't you?" "Yes, sir. But I'm 'most six." "Oh-h, I see-a big boy now. But what have you got there?" The boy held up the toy steamer with which he had been playing. "Oh-h, I see now. What are you going to do with it?" The boy looked sidewise out to where in the bay a fleet of battle-ships were lying to anchor. "Load it with sugar and pineapples, and ship 'em to the States, are you?" "But it's a gun-ship. See-where the turrets 'n' the fighting-tops will be when papa makes them." "Oh! and so you want to be a great merchant?" "I want to be a fighter"-articulating slowly and distinctly-"on a big gun-ship." "Well, if ever you do, little man, I'll bet you'll be a game one, too. Is your papa home?" "No, sir, but Aunt Marie is." "And is Aunt Marie busy, do you think?" "I don't know, sir, but she's making a battle-flag for my gun-ship." "That so? I think I will call on Aunt Marie, then."
