"It took me a month, but I worked it out finally. Aren't you glad to see
me?"

She burst out crying then, quiet, but as if her heart was broke.

"Oh!" she sobs. "How could you be so cruel! And they've been so kind to
me here."

I went away then, thinking harder than ever. At dinner Jonesy done the
waiting, but Mabel wa'n't on deck. She had a headache, the cook said,
and was lying down. 'Twas the same way at supper, and after supper Peter
Brown comes to me, all broke up, and says he:

"There's merry clink to pay," he says. "Mabel's going to leave."

"No?" says I. "She ain't neither!"

"Yes, she is. She says she's going to-morrer. She won't tell me why, and
I've argued with her for two hours. She's going to quit, and I'd rather
enough sight quit myself. What'll we do?" says he.

I couldn't help him none, and he went away, moping and miserable. All
round the place everybody was talking about the "lovely" new waiter,
and to hear the girls go on you'd think the Prince of Wales had landed.
Jonadab was the only kicker, and he said 'twas bad enough afore, but
now that new dude had shipped, 'twa'n't the place for a decent,
self-respecting man.

"How you goin' to order that Grand Panjandrum around?" he says. "Great
land of Goshen! I'd as soon think of telling the Pope of Rome to empty
a pail of swill as I would him. Why don't he stay to home and be a
tailor's sign or something? Not prance around here with his high-toned
airs. I'm glad you've got him, Barzilla, and not me."

Well, most of that was plain jealousy, so I didn't contradict. Besides
I was too busy thinking. By eight o'clock I'd made up my mind and I went
hunting for Jones.

I found him, after a while, standing by the back door and staring up at
the chamber winders as if he missed something. I asked him to come along
with me. Told him I had a big cargo of talk aboard, and wouldn't be able
to cruise on an even keel till I'd unloaded some of it. So he fell into
my wake, looking puzzled, and in a jiffy we was planted in the rocking
chairs up in my bedroom.

"Look here," says I, "Mr.--Mr.--"

"Jones," says he.

"Oh, yes--Jones. It's a nice name."

"I remember it beautifully," says he, smiling.

"All right, Mr. Jones. Now, to begin with, we'll agree that it ain't
none of my darn business, and I'm an old gray-headed nosey, and the like
of that. But, being that I AM old--old enough to be your dad, though
that's my only recommend for the job--I'm going to pr