wink. Then he added, more soberly, "The old
salt water looks mighty good to me now, though. Strange how you don't
want a thing you can have and long for it when you can't.... But I'm not
supposed to preach a sermon, at least I haven't heard anybody ask me to.
What's your part in this--what d'ye call it?--'Out on the Beach,'
George?"

"'Down by the Sea.' Oh, I'm 'March Gale,' and when I was a baby I was
cast ashore from a wreck."

"Humph! When you were a baby. Started your seafarin' early, I should
say. Who else is in it?"

"Oh, Frank Crosby, he is 'Sept Gale,' my brother--only he isn't my
brother. And John Carleton--the schoolteacher, you know--he is
'Raymond,' the city man; he's good, too. And Sam Ryder, and Erastus
Snow. There was one part--'John Gale,' an old fisherman chap, we
couldn't seem to think of any one who could, or would, play it. But at
last we did, and who do you think it was? Joel Macomber, your sister's
husband."

"What? Joel Macomber--on the stage! Oh, come now, George!"

"It's a fact. And he's good, too. Some one told one of us that Macomber
had done some amateur acting when he was young, and, in desperation, we
asked him to try this part. And he is good. You would be surprised,
Cap'n Kendrick."

"Um-hm, I am now. I certainly am. What sort of a part is it Joel's got?
What does this--er--Gale do; anything but blow?"

"Why--why, he doesn't really do much, that's a fact. He is supposed to
be a fisherman, as I said, but--well, about all he does in the play is
to come on and off and talk a good deal, and scold at Frank and me--his
sons, you know--and fuss at his wife and----"

Captain Sears held up his hand.

"That's enough, George," he interrupted. "That'll do. Don't do much of
anything, talks a lot, and finds fault with other folks. No wonder Joel
Macomber can act that part. He ought to be as natural as life in it.
Aren't there any womenfolks in this play, though? I don't see how much
could happen without them aboard."

"Oh, yes, of course there are women. Three of them. Mrs. Cora Bassett,
Eliphalet's brother's wife, she is 'Mrs. Gale,' my mother, only she
turns out not to be; and Fannie Wingate, she is the rich city girl; and
Elizabeth. That makes the three."

"Yes, yes, so it does. But which Elizabeth are you talkin' about?"

"Why, Elizabeth Berry. My--our Elizabeth, over here at the Fair Harbor."

The quick change from "my" to "our" was so quick as to be almost
imperceptible, but the