Why, see
here, Button-Bright, we've got half-a-dozen umbrellas in the closet
that's better ner yours."
"Perhaps," said the boy. "Yours may look a heap better, sir,
but--I'll keep this one, if you please."
"Where did you get it?" asked Trot, appearing just then with a plate
of bread-and-butter.
"It--it belongs in our family," said Button-Bright, beginning to eat
and speaking between bites. "This umbrella has been in our family
years, an' years, an' years. But it was tucked away up in our attic
an' no one ever used it 'cause it wasn't pretty."
"Don't blame 'em much," remarked Cap'n Bill, gazing at it curiously.
"It's a pretty old-lookin' bumbershoot." They were all seated in the
vine-shaded porch of the cottage--all but Mrs. Griffith, who had
gone into the kitchen to look after the supper--and Trot was on one
side of the boy, holding the plate for him, while Cap'n Bill sat on
the other side.
"It is old," said Button-Bright. "One of my great-great-grandfathers
was a Knight--an Arabian Knight--and it was he who first found this
umbrella."
"An Arabian Night!" exclaimed Trot. "Why, that was a magic night,
wasn't it?"
"There's diff'rent sorts o' nights, mate," said the sailor, "an' the
knight Button-Bright means ain't the same night you mean. Soldiers
used to be called knights, but that were in the dark ages, I guess,
an' likely 'nough Butt'n-Bright's great-gran'ther were that sort of
a knight.
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