is head toward the window of Caroline's room.
Sylvester nodded. "Yes," he said, "I suppose so. Captain, I'm somewhat
surprised that you should be willing to trust that niece of yours
to another man. She's a pretty precious article, according to your
estimate."

"Well, ain't she accordin' to yours?"

"Yes. Pretty precious and precious pretty. Look at her now."

They turned in time to catch a glimpse of the girl as she parted the
curtains and looked out on the road. She saw them looking at her,
smiled, blushed, and disappeared. Both men smoked in silence for a
moment. Then the captain said:

"Waitin'. Hi hum! nothin' like it, when you're waitin' for _the_ one,
is there?"

"No, nothing."

"Yup. Well, for a pair of old single hulks our age, strikes me we're
gettin' pretty sentimental. You say you wonder I'd trust Caroline to
another man; I wouldn't to the average one. But Jim Pearson's all right.
You'll say so, too, when you know him as well as I do."

"I'll trust your judgment, any time. So you won't tell Steve yet awhile
that he's not broke?"

"No. And Caroline won't tell him, either. Steve's doin' fust-rate as
he is. He's in the pickle tub and 'twill do him good to season a
spell longer. But I think he's goin' to be all right by and by. Say,
Sylvester, this New York cruise of mine turned out pretty good, after
all, didn't it?"

"Decidedly good. It was the making of your niece and nephew. Caroline
realizes it now; and so will Steve later on."

"Hope so. It didn't do _me_ any harm," with a chuckle. "I wouldn't have
missed that little beat up the bay with Marm Dunn for a good deal. For
a spell there we was bows abreast, and 'twas hard to tell who'd turn the
mark first. Heard from the Dunns lately?"

"No. Why, yes, I did hear that they were in a tighter box than ever,
financially. The smash will come pretty soon."

"I'm sorry. The old lady'll go down with colors nailed to the mast, I'll
bet; and she'll leave a lot of suds where she sank. Do you know, I never
blamed her so much. She was built that way. She's consider'ble like
old Mrs. Patience Blodgett, who used to live up here to the Neck; like
her--only there never was two people more different. Pashy was the
craziest blue-ribboner you ever saw. Her one idea in life was gettin'
folks to sign the pledge. She married Tim Blodgett, who was the wust
soak in the county--he'd have figgered out, if you analyzed him, about
like a bottle of patent medicine, seventy-t