aid Uncle Barber. "I've always been master in my own
house. Now you'd better step round and see the bride that is to be."

"Well, you be careful," said his nephew, warningly.

"I'm coming, too," said Captain Barber, with some haste; "there's no
need to stay and wait for trouble. When you go into the house, come back
as though you'd forgotten something, and sing out to me that you want me
to come too--hard enough for 'er to hear, mind."

CHAPTER VIII.

The bewildered master of the _Foam_ spent the remainder of the time at
Seabridge in a species of waking nightmare.

A grey-haired dressmaker and a small apprentice sat in the Banks' best
parlour, and from a chaos of brown paper patterns stuck over with pins
a silk dress of surpassing beauty began slowly to emerge. As a great
concession Flower was allowed to feel the material, and even to rub it
between his finger and thumb in imitation of Captain Barber, who was
so prone to the exercise that a small piece was cut for his especial
delectation. A colour of unwonted softness glowed in the cheek of
Elizabeth and an air of engaging timidity tempered her interview with
Flower, who had to run the gauntlet of much friendly criticism on the
part of his fair neighbours.

Up to the time of sailing for London again the allusion to Mrs. Church's
departure, desired by Captain Barber, had not been made by the younger
man. The housekeeper was still in possession, and shook hands with him
at the front door as he limped slowly off with Miss Banks and his uncle
to go down to the schooner. His foot was still very bad, so bad that
he stumbled three times on the way to the quay despite the assistance
afforded by the arm of his betrothed.

"Seems to be no power in it," he said smiling faintly; "but I daresay
it'll be all right by the time. I get back."

He shook hands with Captain Barber and, as a tribute to conventionality,
kissed Miss Banks. The last the two saw of him, he was standing at the
wheel waving his handkerchief. They waved their own in return, and as
the _Foam_ drew rapidly away gave a final farewell and departed.

"What's the game with the foot?" enquired the mate, in a low voice.

"Tell you by-and-by," said the skipper; "it's far from well, but even
if it wasn't I should pretend it was bad. I suppose that doesn't suggest
anything to you?"

The mate shook his head.

"Can you see any way out of it?" enquired the other. "What would you do
if you were in my place?"