"I am going to leave it all to you, father. I'm sure you mean to do

right." She served the food as mistress at the board.

"It seems homelike with you here," said Captain Can-dage, meekly and

wistfully.

"I will stay with you, father, if it will make you happier."

"I sha'n't listen to anything of the sort. It ain't no place aboard here

for a girl."

Through the open port they heard the frequent clanging of the

steam-yacht's engine-room bell and the riot of her swishing screws as

she eased herself into an anchorage. She was very near them--so near

that they could hear the chatter of the voices of gay folk.

"What boat is that, father?"

"Another frosted-caker! I can't remember the name."

"It's the Oilyena or something like that. I forget fancy names pretty

quick," Otie informed her.

"Well, it ain't much use to load your mind down with that kind of

sculch," stated Captain Candage, poising a potato on his fork-tines and

peeling it, his elbows on the table. "That yacht and the kind of folks

that's aboard that yacht ain't of any account to folks like us."

The memory of some remarks which are uttered with peculiar fervor

remains with the utterer. Some time later--long after--Captain Candage

remembered that remark and informed himself that, outside of weather

predictions, he was a mighty poor prophet.




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