o stand on this tack, in your case, for a while
longer."

"You have taken me away from my real home for this? This is no place for
a girl! You are not the same as you are when you are on shore. I didn't
know you could be so rough--and--wicked!"

"Hold on there, daughter! Snub cable right there! I'm an honest,
God-fearing, hard-working man--paying a hundred cents on the dollar, and
you know it."

"But what did you just shout--right out where everybody could hear you?"

"That--that was only passing the compliments of the day as compared with
what I can do when I get started proper. Do you think I'm going to let
any snub-snooted wart-hog of a lime-duster sing--"

"Father!"

"What's a girl know about the things a father has to put up with when he
goes to sea and earns money for her?"

"I am willing to work for myself. You took me right out of my good
position in the millinery-store. You have made me leave all my young
friends. Oh, I am so homesick!" Her self-reliance departed suddenly. She
choked. She tucked her head into the hook of her arm and sobbed.

"Don't do that!" he pleaded, softening suddenly. "Please don't, Polly!"

She looked up and smiled--a pleading, wan little smile. "I didn't mean
to give way to it, popsy dear. I don't intend to do anything to make you
angry or sorry. I have tried to be a good girl. I am a good girl. But it
breaks my heart when you don't trust me."

"They were courting you," he stammered. "Them shore dudes was hanging
around you. I ain't doubting you, Polly. But you 'ain't got no mother.
I was afraid. I know I've been a fool about it. But I was afraid!" Tears
sprinkled his bronzed cheeks. "I haven't been much of a father because
I've had to go sailing and earn money. But I thought I'd take you away
till-till I could sort of plan on something."

She gazed at him, softening visibly.

"Oh, Polly," he said, his voice breaking, "you don't know how pretty you
are-you don't know how afraid I am!"

"But you can trust me, father," she promised, after a pause, with simple
dignity. "I know I am only a country girl, not wise, perhaps, but I know
what is right and what is wrong. Can't you understand how terribly you
have hurt my pride and my self-respect by forcing me to come and be
penned up here as if I were a shameless girl who could not take care of
herself?"

"I reckon I have done wrong, Polly. But I don't know much-not about
women folk. I was trying to do right-because you're all I