o admit Matt Peasley; and as he paused just inside
the entrance, slightly embarrassed at finding himself under the cool
scrutiny of the trimmest, most dashing little craft he had ever seen,
Miss Florry decided that her father was right. Here, indeed, was a
specimen of the genus Homo she had not hitherto seen. Six feet three he
was, straight from shoulder to hip, broad-chested and singularly well
formed and graceful for such a big man.

He wore stout shoes, without toe caps--rather old-fashioned footgear,
Florry thought; but they were polished brightly. A tailor-made,
double-breasted blue serge suit, close-hauled and demoded; a soft white
silk shirt, with non-detachable collar; a plain black silk four-in-hand
tie, and a uniform cap, set a little back and to one side on thick,
black, glossy, wavy hair, completed his attire. He had his right hand in
his trousers pocket; his left was on the doorknob. He glanced from her
to her father.

"He's handsome," thought Florry. "What a beautiful tan on his throat! He
looks anything but the brute he is. But he hasn't any manners. Oh, dear!
He stands there like a graven image."

Matt Peasley's hand came out of his pocket; off came his cap and he
bowed slightly.

"I am Captain Peasley," he said.

Cappy Ricks, leaning forward on the edge of his swivel chair, with head
slightly bent, made a long appraisal of the young man over the rims of
his spectacles.

"Ahem!" he said. "Huh! Harumph!" Ensued another terrible silence. Then:
"Young scoundrel!" Cappy cried. "Infernal young scoundrel!"

"I accept the nomination," said Matt dryly. "You'd never know me from
my photograph, would you, sir? I'd know you from yours, though--in a
minute!"

Miss Florry tittered audibly, thus drawing on herself the attention of
the skipper, who was audacious enough to favor her with a solemn wink.

"None of your jokes with me, sir!" said Cappy severely.

"That's just what I say, sir; none of your jokes on me! Those green
hides were absolutely indecent."

"Matt, you're a fresh young fellow," Cappy charged, struggling to
suppress a smile.

"And I was raised on salt water too," Matt added seriously.

Cappy laughed.

"You're a Thomaston Peasley," he declared, and shook hands. "Ever hear
of Ethan Peasley back there?"

"He was my uncle, sir. He was drowned at sea."

"He was a boyhood chum of mine, Matt. Permit me to present my daughter,
Miss Florence."

Miss Florence favored the captain with her mo