ven the flowing side-whiskers
betrayed a sort of alarm in their bristling alertness. "And if it wasn't
that one good woman fancied you were true metal instead of slag, I'd--"

He did not complete the sentence, leaving the captain in doubt as to his
half-expressed threat.

"Get up there!" Dan suddenly exclaimed. "Now, you think you will annoy me
about that guardianship until I'll give it up, don't you?" he said, more
quietly, as the captain once more stood erect, but in a wavering,
uncertain way. "Well, you're mightily mistaken, and you might as well end
your childish interference right here. The girl is as much entitled to my
consideration as you are--more! So if any one is dropped out of the family
circle, it will not be her. Do you understand? And if I hear another word
of your insinuations about her amusements, I'll break your neck! Two,
Jim."

This last was to the barkeeper, and had reference to a half-dollar he
tossed on the counter as payment for his own drink and that of the
captain; and again he stalked into the street with his temper even more
rumpled than when he left Mrs. Huzzard's.

Assuredly it was not a good morning for Mr. Overton's peace of mind.

Down along the river he came in sight of the cause of his discontent, the
most innocent-looking cause in the world. She was teaching Lyster to
paddle the canoe with but one paddle, as the Indians do, and was laughing
derisively at his ineffectual attempts to navigate in a straight line.

"You--promised--Mrs. Huzzard--you'd--take--care--of--me," she said, slowly
and emphatically, "and a pretty way you're doing it. Suppose I depended on
you getting me in to shore for my dinner, how many hours do you think I'd
have to go without eating? Just about sixteen. Give me that paddle, and
don't upset the canoe when you move."

These commands Mr. Lyster obeyed with alacrity.

"What a clever little girl you are!" he said, admiringly, as she sent the
canoe skimming straight as a swallow for the shore. "Now, Overton would
appreciate your skill at this sort of work"--and then he laughed a
little--"much more than he would your modeling in clay."

A dark flush crept over her face, and her lips straightened.

"Why shouldn't he look down on that sort of pottering around?" she
demanded. "_He_ isn't the sort of man who has time to waste on trifles."

"Why that emphasis on the _he_?" asked her tormentor. "Do you mean to
insinuate that I do waste time on trifles? Well, well