come out to-morrow morning, and we'll catch some
cod."

The doctor's tired eyes brightened. "There's nothing that I'd like
better, captain, but I've got an old man ill of pneumonia, and there's
a girl with appendicitis."

"There you go," said the little man; "if it wasn't a girl with
appendicitis, it would be a kid with the colic, or a lady with a claim
to heart trouble. What you've got to do, doctor, is to cut it all out
and come with me."

Anthony shook his head. "Suppose some one had said to you when you
sailed the seas that you could leave the ship----?"

"I shouldn't have left," said the little man, "but I didn't have such a
look as you've got in your eyes. What you need is a good night's sleep,
and a day's fishin'. And you need it now."

Having eaten presently his last morsel, he ordered a piece of pie.
"There's nothing like sea air to blow your brains clear," he stated.
"And when this fog lifts, it'll be fine fishin' weather."

Again the doctor shook his head. "I'd like it, more than a little, but
I've got to stick to my post."

Captain Stubbs began on his pie, and remarked, "The trouble with you is
that you're mixed up with too many wimmen."

Anthony's head went up. "What do you mean?"

"Wimmen," said the little captain, "are bad enough anyhow. But when you
have to handle a lot of wimmen with nerves, then the Lord help you."

He said it so solemnly that Anthony threw back his head and laughed.

"Now, up at that sannytarium of yours," said the captain, "there's about
ten of them that need to be dipped into the good salt sea and hung up in
the sun to dry, and that's all they need, no coddling and medicine and
operations--but just a cold shock and a warm-up--and a day's fishin'."

And now Anthony did not laugh. "By Jove," he said, "I believe you're
right. I'm going to try some personally conducted parties, and you shall
take them out, captain----"

"Me----?" the captain demanded, incredulously. "Me take those wimmen out
fishin'?"

Anthony nodded. "Yes, once a week. Is it a bargain?"

The captain stood up. "No, it ain't," he said, firmly. "I'll take you
and gladly. But not any of that nervous bunch."

He settled his cap firmly on his head, and went toward the door. Then he
turned. "Some day," he said, "I'm going to ask that Betty child to go
out in my boat."

"Bettina?" Anthony's mind went swiftly to the shadowed room.

"Yes. She's lonesome, and so was her mother. I used to take fish up to
the