A Yarn of Sailor Ben's
IN the blue shadow of the Life-Saving Station sat Sailor Ben painting a toy boat. He ran a red stripe around the hull.
"That brightens her a bit," remarked Sailor Ben. "I hopes the little lad will like her. Anyhow, she's wuth the half-dollar—every cent."
"That's gay!" said a small boy in a sailor-suit, who just then came clown the board walk from the hotel. "She 'll scoot along, won't she?"
"Sure-ly," answered Sailor Ben, solemnly; "she can't help herself. She's the model image of the 'Speedy Susan,' and that was the slickest little brig I ever see point forefoot toward blue water."
"Was she wrecked?" asked the boy.
"O' course she were," answered the old sailor. "She were bound to be—always sailing smack up ag'in' all the coral reefs she could find. She was tradin' in the South Pacific, and she had
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