to say, even the wax-dipped wreath that hung
in its circular black frame over the whatnot did not appeal to her.
The captains considered that wreath--it had been the principal floral
offering at the funeral of Captain Perez's sister, and there was a lock
of her hair framed with it--the gem of the establishment. They could
understand, to a certain degree, why Miss Preston objected to the
prominence given the spatter-work "God bless our Home" motto, but her
failure to enthuse over the wreath was inexplicable.

But by degrees they became used to seeing the blinds open at the parlor
windows the week through, and innovations like muslin curtains and vases
filled with late wild flowers came to be at first tolerated and then
liked. "Elsie's notions," the captains called them.

There were some great discussions on art, over the teacups after supper.
Miss Preston painted very prettily in water-colors, and her sketches
were received with enthusiastic praise by the captains and Mrs. Snow.
But one day she painted a little picture of a fishing boat and, to her
surprise, it came in for some rather sharp criticism.

"That's a pretty picture, Elsie," said Captain Eri, holding the sketch
at arm's length and squinting at it with his head on one side, "but
if that's Caleb Titcomb's boat, and I jedge 'tis, it seems to me she's
carryin' too much sail. What do you think, Jerry?"

Captain Jerry took the painting from his friend and critically examined
it, also at arm's length.

"Caleb's boat ain't got no sech sail as that," was his deliberate
comment. "She couldn't carry it and stand up that way. Besides, the way
I look at it, she's down by the head more 'n she'd ought to be."

"But I didn't try to get it EXACTLY right," said the bewildered artist.
"The boat's sails were so white, and the water was so blue, and the sand
so yellow that I thought it made a pretty picture. I didn't think of the
size of the sail."

"Well, I s'pose you wouldn't, nat'rally," observed Captain Perez, who
was looking over Jerry's shoulder. "But you have to be awful careful
paintin' vessels. Now you jest look at that picture," pointing to the
glaring likeness of the Flying Duck, that hung on the wall. "Jest look
at them sails, every one of 'em drawin' fine; and them ropes, every one
in JEST the right place. That's what I call paintin'."

"But don't you think, Captain Perez, that the waves in that picture
would be better if they weren't so all in a row, like a