y again, and flipping it upon the
paper-covered platter. "If William Henry Jones hadn't gone down in that
squall thirty years ago, an' if Davy hadn't thought it was his duty t'
carry out his mate's plans, I'm thinkin' Susan Jane might have been
different an' Davy might not have had sich tormentin' experiences.
Least, that is how it struck me thirty year back, an' it strikes me so
yet."

Billy nodded appreciatively.

"'T ain't always wise t' tackle somebody else's job," Mark joined in,
"that's what come t' me in the city. City jobs ain't fur you! that's
what I said t' myself. Salt air was in my nostrils, the sound of the sea
in my ears, an' I couldn't any more hear t' the teachin' of city ways,
than the city folks can learn of us here on the coast."

Again Billy nodded. He felt his spirits rising as he looked upon this
man of the world and knew him as a friend.

"Draw up, Pa and Cap'n Billy!" Mark had collected a large and varied
repast. "Have some cold fowl, Cap'n, an' a couple o' 'taters. Lay hold
of a brace o' them ears o' corn. Over half a yard long an' as near black
as purple ever is. Inside they're white an' milky enough. Have some
blackberry pie, 'long with yer fowl, Cap'n. 'T ain't every day you can
get Pa's cookin'; an' I bleve in mixin' good victuals. It's what Nater
does."

Billy took everything suggested and ate it indiscriminately, and this
example was ably followed by his hosts.

"Mark!" Billy after a long but significant silence sat back in his chair
and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, "Mark, I'm goin' t' ask ye
t' jine me in a rather shady job. Do ye happen t' know the particular
women painters as is usin' Janet fur a--modil?"

Mark strangled over a kernel of corn and stared, teary-eyed, at Billy.

"Modil?" he finally gasped, "modil? Why, Cap'n, that ain't no word t'
tack ont' Janet. Modils ain't moral or decint. I learned that in th'
city from a painter-chap as use t' come in t' the shop an' eat isters
when he could afford it."

Billy's face lengthened.

"'T is 'mong friends I speak?" Billy dropped his voice. Both men nodded.
"Well, Janet is a modil t' some of them dirty-aproned women painters!
An' I want t' see just how they've took her, an' what they calkerlate t'
do with the picter! Andrew Farley has been modilin' fur them, an' Andy's
'count of how he looks in paint ain't pleasant. I don't know as I want
Janet shown up in the city kinder onsightly."

During this explanation Mark