d the
best results, returned to the boiler deck, the parson's wife sought her
children, Mrs. Gilmore went down to "Harriet." To shield madame from the
full force of the breeze "California" moved her chair, Joy following
with Ramsey's, to the shelter of the great chimney nearest the captain's
door, where sympathy itself tended to draw them, and by the time this
was done the commodore, again on Hugh's arm, reissued from the captain's
room and, at sight of this quartet, paused, turned, and accepted a seat
among them.

The first word was Ramsey's: How was the captain?

The best that could be said was that he was "holding out"--or "up"--or
"on"--the commodore's voice was weak. He had come away from the
captain's bed-side because a convalescent was "only in the way," he
said, and because Hugh felt that he belonged on deck if anywhere, though
that, the old man fondly added, was less important than Hugh chose to
regard it. This unimportance Ramsey recognized by diverting the
conversation so far as to announce that "mom-a" had just settled the
whole Phyllis business.

"Mighty nigh," the Californian admitted, answering Hugh's quiet glance,
while his heart praised the daughter's failure to credit him with his
share in the achievement, that being a thing still in progress, whose
design he had not fully revealed. The omission seemed to him most
maidenly and daughterly. He spoke on, to the two ladies:

"There's a thing or two more----"

"Oh, I'll pay that two hundred dollars!" cried Ramsey.

In animated approval her mother nodded to both.

"Not if the court knows itself," said the modest man, with so winsome a
smile that every one noticed how blue were his eyes. "I can trump that,"
he added, musingly.

"What's the other thing? You said a thing or two," asked Ramsey.

"Her wages, ain't it, for eleven years?"

"Ho, ho!" laughed madame in amiable scorn, while----

"Paid!" cried Ramsey. "Mrs. Gilmore's always paid her!"

"Knowin' she was a runaway? and who' from?"

Madame bowed sweetly, yet with an aroused sparkle.

"Humph!" said Ramsey, watching the boat back out and lay her course for
Island Thirty-five, "I'd have done as they did, either of them." She
stepped into the freshening breeze.

The inquirer's eyes rested on her, bluer than ever.

"Don't you propose to collect?" he asked.

"Most certainly not!" sang Ramsey at full height.

"Not a sou," said madame, looking about in grand amusement. "Not a
pic-ah-yune--h