er was taken by surprise.

"My Cap'n!" Janet rushed to him and flung her arms about him.

"Hold there!" he cried, "I'm all over isters, Janet; isters an' eelgrass
an' water!"

"Never mind, Cap'n Daddy, you are you! I am never going to leave you.
I've come home!" In her raptures she had shaken Billy's hat off, and now
stooped to pick it up. "I'm going to be an oysterer myself, or some
other man-thing that will help. But, Cap'n Daddy, I'm going to tie up
close to you!"

Billy was in nowise deceived by this loving outburst. He had kept
guiltily away from the girl with the knowledge he knew he must impart to
her some day. Mark Tapkins had informed him of the artist's departure;
and that, together with Susan Jane's death and funeral, had given Billy,
never before cowardly, a time of grace. But he knew that his girl had
come to him in some trouble. Every expression of the dear face was known
to him, and he was ready to throw out the line of help as soon as the
signal was sure.

"Janet," he said, "I'll fetch a mess of somethin' from the Station an'
we'll take it together. You lay out the table same as ye use t'. Ye
might happen t' like t' fry up some isters. I've had oncommon luck; an'
ye allus sot considerable store by the first isters."

"The very thought of them makes me hungry! Hurry, Cap'n Daddy; I want
you right close!"

Billy was not gone long, and when he returned the two made ready the
evening meal. They tried to be gay, but between the attempts at
merriment each was watching the other.

The sun went down behind the Hills and Davy's Light sprang to its duty
on the Point. Billy got up stiffly, lighted the little glass lamp and
set it upon the table amid the dishes of food from which neither he nor
Janet had ravenously eaten.

"We must rid up," said Billy, eyeing the disorder; "once yer done with
food, 'tain't a pleasant sight hangin' around." When this was finished
Janet drew her chair close.

"Cap'n Daddy!" No longer could the girl hold herself in check. "Cap'n
Daddy, I've got something to tell you!"

Billy's heart smote him as he looked at the pretty head, bowed now upon
the folded arms. He put out his rough hand and smoothed the ruddy hair.

"Steady," he murmured, "'tain't no use t' lose heart, Janet. I done
wrong not t' give ye a clearer chart t' sail by, but ye'll get int'
smooth waters agin, please God!" How little he realized her true
trouble!

Janet tried to still her sobs, but they eased the s