living so long alone with her.

He went to wash and change his shirt. Then he sat down in one of the
huge porch chairs and rocked quietly, waiting for supper. He could
see into the kitchen, which was the family dining room as well, and
when he saw his Aunt Lucretia take the coffee-pot from the stove and
put it on the square Dutch tile by her own place, Tunis knew it was
the only call to supper there would be.

He rose and went in, taking his place at the head of the table. His
aunt's head was bowed and her lips moved soundlessly. He respected
her whispered grace and always felt that he could add nothing to it
in thankfulness or reverence if he uttered an orison himself. During
the cheerful and plentiful meal the young captain of the _Seamew_
related certain matters he thought would interest the woman
regarding his purchase of the schooner and the voyage down to the
Cape. He told her he was sure the _Seamew_ was fast enough for a
Boston market boat.

"Speed is what is wanted now to compete with the Old Colony," Tunis
declared. "We've got fish and clams and cranberries in season, and
some vegetables, that have to be shaken up and jounced together and
squashed on those jolting steam trains. I'll lay down a crate of
lobsters at the T-wharf without a hair being ruffled. I know how to
stow a cargo."

She nodded both her understanding and her belief that Tunis was
right. The legacy he had received from the estate of Peleg Latham,
Medford Latham's brother, had enabled Tunis to buy this beautiful
schooner. Undoubtedly an eye for the beauty of the craft had more
than a little drawn the young man into her purchase. Yet there was a
foundation of solid sense under his streak of romance.

In this day a man must serve a long apprenticeship before he gets a
command unless he owns the craft on which he is skipper. To own a
schooner of the size of the _Seamew_ is not enough. One must be a
good merchant as well as a good skipper.

The coast trade from port to port along the North Atlantic shore
must be fostered and coaxed like a stumbling baby. The tentacles of
the hated railroad reach to many of the Cape ports. Yet everybody
knows that a cargo properly stowed in a seaworthy craft reaches
market in much the better condition than by rail, though perhaps it
is some hours longer on the way.

There were docks, too, at which Tunis Latham could pick up
well-paying freights which would have to be carted over bad roads to
the nearest ra