t to.
I'll cover up my blushes."

The maligned Mrs. Dott announced that she had a good mind to box his
ears. "That's what I should do to a child," she added, "and nobody could
act more childish than you have this afternoon."

"Second childhood, Serena. Second childhood and dodderin' old age are
creepin' over me fast. There!" as the lamp blazed and the parlor was
illuminated, "now you can see for yourself. Do I dodder much?"

Even Gertrude was obliged to laugh.

"Daddy!" she cried; "you silly thing! I believe you ARE getting
childish."

"Am I? All right, I'm willing to be, at the price. My! Gertie, you
look awfully pretty. Don't she look 'specially pretty to you to-night,
Serena?"

Serena smiled. "That gown was always becoming," she said.

"I know it was; that's why I wanted her to put it on. And she's fixed
her hair the way I like, too. My! my! if some folks I know could see you
now, Gertie, they'd.... Ahem! Well, never mind. She looks as if she was
expectin' company and had rigged up for it, doesn't she, Serena?"

Gertrude paid little attention to this rather strained attempt at a
joke. She merely smiled and turned away. But her mother appeared to
suspect a hidden meaning in the words. She leaned forward and gazed at
her husband.

"Daniel," she cried, sharply and with increasing excitement; "Daniel
Dott, what are you--"

The captain waved her to silence. She would have spoken in spite of
it, but his second wave and shake of the head were so emphatic that she
hesitated. Before the moment of hesitation was at an end Captain Dan
himself began to speak. He spoke in a new tone now and more and more
rapidly.

"Serena, don't interrupt me," he ordered. "Gertie, listen. I'm goin' to
tell you both a story. Once there was a couple of married folks that had
a daughter.... Hush, I tell you! Listen, both of you. I AIN'T crazy. If
ever I talked sense in my life I'm talkin' it now.... This couple, as
I say, had a daughter. This daughter was engaged to be married. The old
folks moved away from the place they had always lived and went somewhere
else. There they both commenced to make fools of themselves. The place
was all right enough, maybe, but they didn't belong in it. The daughter,
she came there and she saw how things were goin' and, says she: 'I'll
fix 'em. I'll cure 'em and save 'em, too, by showin' 'em an example, my
example. I'll--'"

Gertrude broke in.

"Daddy," she cried, with a warning glance at her mother,