his daughter in Laidley's threatened disposal
of his property, was not altogether unheroic. There was nothing mean in
the big gaunt figure with its uncertain strides, or in the high-featured,
mild-eyed face: neither was there anything mean in his wrath. It was all
directed against himself. His Swedish blood had infused a gentle laziness
into his temper, and he had forgiven Laidley long ago for his lifelong
swindle, as no American with English grandfathers would have done.

"It's Will's nature," he said now. "Will's a coward and desperately ill.
He wants to pay his way into heaven, and I can't blame him. But _I_--I'm
an incompetent fool! I can't even pay my girl's way on earth!" The
captain's life, in fact, was a long ague of feverish conceit and chills of
humility. Yesterday he was an inventor who would benefit the world: to-day
he was fit for nothing but to dig clams. Going up and down the lonely
walk, he summed up all the capital he had had to make his fortune in the
world's market--the education, the opportunities, the great inventions
that all fell just short of their aim. For himself, he did not want money.
His work-bench, his iron bed, a bowl of Jane's soup, a fishing-rod and a
tramp into the hills now and then with the girl,--if he had millions they
could buy him nothing better. But she--Why should she not be as other
women? Why could he not work for her as other fathers--?

He raised his right arm, and the empty sleeve fell back from the stump,
which burned and throbbed impotently. There was will enough in it to
conquer the whole world for her. There was that aching love which mothers
feel in his breast for her, as though his heart were physically wrenched.

But at breakfast the next morning, while quite as ready to die for her, he
nagged and scolded incessantly, and threw the blame of their ill-luck on
her, his voice sounding like the clatter of a brass kettle: "Omelette?
No--no omelette for me. I am quite content to breakfast on dry bread and
coffee. It is time we practiced economy. I'll make out a system for you,
Jane. A system, and I desire you to follow it."

Jane laughed and helped him to cherries, and then devoted herself in
earnest to her own breakfast. She never argued with anybody, and had that
impregnable good-humor which so often passes for lack of feeling. Little
griefs, either her own or those of other people, dwindled out of notice in
the atmosphere about her, like mosquitoes buzzing in a large s