irty."

"Hum! Yes, I ain't tended up to my washin' and ironin' the way I'd ought
to. I'll lose my job if I don't look out, hey?"

Before they sat down to the meal Captain Cy insisted that his guest
take a tablespoonful of the sarsaparilla and decorate her throat with
a section of red flannel soaked in the 'Arabian Balsam.' The perfume of
the latter was penetrating and might have interfered with a less healthy
appetite than that of Miss Thomas.

"Have some soup? Some I bought purpose for you. Best thing goin' for
folks with icicles," remarked the captain, waving the iron spoon he had
used to stir the contents of the saucepan.

"Yes, sir, thank you. But don't you ask a blessing?"

"Hey?"

"A blessing, you know. Saying that you're thankful for the food now set
before us."

"Hum! Why, to tell you the truth I've kind of neglected that, I'm
afraid. Bein' thankful for the grub I've had lately was most too much of
a strain, I shouldn't wonder."

"I know the one mamma used to say. Shall I ask it for you?"

"Sho! I guess so, if you want to."

The girl bent her head and repeated a short grace. Captain Cy watched
her curiously.

"Now, I'll have some soup, please," observed Emily. "I'm awful hungry.
I had breakfast at five o'clock this morning and we didn't have a chance
to eat much."

A good many times that day the captain caught himself wondering if he
wasn't dreaming. The whole affair seemed too ridiculous to be an actual
experience. Dinner over, he and Emmie attended to the dishes, he washing
and she wiping. And even at this early stage of their acquaintance her
disposition to take charge of things was apparent. She found fault with
the dish towels; they were almost as bad as the tablecloth, she said.
Considering that the same set had been in use since Mrs. Beasley's
departure, the criticism was not altogether baseless. But the young lady
did not stop there--her companion's skill as a washer was questioned.

"Excuse me," she said, "but don't you think that plate had better be
done over? I guess you didn't see that place in the corner. Perhaps
you've forgot your specs. Auntie Oliver couldn't see well without her
specs."

Captain Cy grinned and admitted that a second washing wouldn't hurt the
plate.

"I guess your auntie was one of the particular kind," he said.

"No, sir, 'twas mamma. She couldn't bear dirty things. Auntie used to
say that mamma hunted dust with a magnifying glass. She didn't, though;
she on