Jewell to such
consideration that he was fain to pause for a moment or two to regain
control of his features before plunging into the lamp-lit fo'c'sle.

The mate made but a poor breakfast next morning, but his superior, who
saw the hand of Miss Jewell in the muddy coffee and the cremated bacon,
ate his with relish. He was looking forward to the evening, the cook
having assured him that his sister had accepted his invitation to
inspect the cabin, and indeed had talked of little else. The boy was set
to work house-cleaning, and, having gleaned a few particulars, cursed
the sex with painstaking thoroughness.

It seemed to the skipper a favorable omen that Miss Jewell descended the
companion-ladder as though to the manner born; and her exclamations
of delight at the cabin completed his satisfaction. The cook, who had
followed them below with some trepidation, became reassured, and seating
himself on a locker joined modestly in the conversation.

"It's like a doll's-house," declared the girl, as she finished by
examining the space-saving devices in the state-room. "Well, I mustn't
take up any more of your time."

"I've got nothing to do," said the skipper, hastily. "I--I was thinking
of going for a walk; but it's lonely walking about by yourself."

Miss Jewell agreed. She lowered her eyes and looked under the lashes at
the skipper.

"I never had a sister," continued the latter, in melancholy accents.

"I don't suppose you would want to take her out if you had," said the
girl.

The skipper protested. "Bert takes you out," he said.

"He isn't like most brothers," said Miss Jewell, shifting along the
locker and placing her hand affectionately on the cook's shoulder.

"If I had a sister," continued the skipper, in a somewhat uneven voice,
"I should take her out. This evening, for instance, I should take her to
a theatre."

Miss Jewell turned upon him the innocent face of a child. "It would be
nice to be your sister," she said, calmly.

The skipper attempted to speak, but his voice failed him. "Well, pretend
you are my sister," he said, at last, "and we'll go to one."

"Pretend?" said Miss Jewell, as she turned and eyed the cook. "Bert
wouldn't like that," she said, decidedly.

"N--no," said the cook, nervously, avoiding the skipper's eye.

"It wouldn't be proper," said Miss Jewell, sitting upright and looking
very proper indeed.

"I--I meant Bert to come, too," said the skipper; "of course," he added.

The