er eyes and she gave him no very amiable
look--rather, she hinted defiance. He felt more at ease. In his opinion,
any person who had spirit enough left for fight was in a mood to keep on
enjoying life.

"Perhaps I went a mite too far, Polly," he admitted. He was mild, but
he preserved a little touch of surliness in order that she might not
conclude that her victory was won. "But seeing that I brought you off to
sea to get you away from flirting--"

"Don't you dare to say that about me!" She beat her round little fist on
the table. "Don't you dare!"

"I don't mean that you ever done it! The dudes done it! I want to do
right by you, Polly. I've been to sea so long that I don't know much
about ways and manners, I reckon. I can't get a good line on things as
I ought to. I'm an old fool, I reckon." His voice trembled. "But it made
me mad to have you stram up there on deck and call me names before 'em."

She did not reply.

"I have always worked hard for you--sailing the seas and going without
things myself, so that you could have 'em--doing the best I could ever
after your poor mother passed on."

"I am grateful to you, father. But you don't understand a girl--oh, you
don't understand! But let's not talk about it any more--not now."

"I ain't saying to-night--I ain't making promises! But maybe--we'll
see how things shape up--maybe I'll send you back home. Maybe it 'll be
to-morrow. We'll see how the stage runs to the train, and so forth!"

"I am going to leave it all to you, father. I'm sure you mean to do
right." She served the food as mistress at the board.

"It seems homelike with you here," said Captain Can-dage, meekly and
wistfully.

"I will stay with you, father, if it will make you happier."

"I sha'n't listen to anything of the sort. It ain't no place aboard here
for a girl."

Through the open port they heard the frequent clanging of the
steam-yacht's engine-room bell and the riot of her swishing screws as
she eased herself into an anchorage. She was very near them--so near
that they could hear the chatter of the voices of gay folk.

"What boat is that, father?"

"Another frosted-caker! I can't remember the name."

"It's the _Oilyena_ or something like that. I forget fancy names pretty
quick," Otie informed her.

"Well, it ain't much use to load your mind down with that kind of
sculch," stated Captain Candage, poising a potato on his fork-tines and
peeling it, his elbows on the table. "That yacht