sweet? I agree with you, Sarah; it is
strange how Captain Whittaker lets his little niece go. And him rich!"

"Niece?" repeated Mrs. Simpson eagerly. "Who said 'twas his niece? I
heard 'twas a child he'd adopted out of a home. There's all sorts of
queer yarns about. I--Oh, good mornin', Cap'n Cyrus! How DO you do?"

The captain grunted an answer to the effect that he was bearing up
pretty well, considering. There was a scowl on his face, and he spoke
little as, holding Emily by the hand, he led the way home. That evening
he dropped in at the perfect boarding house and begged to know if Mrs.
Bangs had any "fashion books" around that she didn't want.

"I mean--er--er--magazines with pictures of women's duds in 'em," he
stammered, in explanation. "Bos'n likes to look at 'em. She's great on
fashion books, Bos'n is."

Keturah got together a half dozen numbers of the Home Dressmaker and
other periodicals of a similar nature. The captain took them under his
arm and departed, whispering to Mr. Tidditt, as he passed the latter in
the hall:

"Come up by and by, Ase. I want to talk to you. Bring Bailey along, if
you can do it without startin' divorce proceedings."

Later, when the trio gathered in the Whittaker sitting room, Captain Cy
produced the "fashion books" and spoke concerning them.

"You see," he said, "I--I've been thinkin' that Bos'n--Emily, that
is--wan't rigged exactly the way she ought to be. Have you fellers
noticed it?"

His friends seemed surprised. Neither was ready with an immediate
answer, so the captain went on.

"Course I don't mean she ain't got canvas enough to cover her spars," he
explained; "but what she has got has seen consider'ble weather, and it
seemed to me 'twas pretty nigh time to haul her into dry dock and refit.
That's why I borrowed these magazines of Ketury. I've been lookin' them
over and there seems to be plenty of riggin' for small craft; the only
thing is I don't know what's the right cut for her build. Bailey, you're
a married man; you ought to know somethin' about women's clothes. What
do you think of this, now?"

He opened one of the magazines and pointed to the picture of a young
girl, with a waspy waist and Lilliputian feet, who, arrayed in flounces
and furbelows, was toddling gingerly down a flight of marble steps. She
carried a parasol in one hand, and the other held the end of a chain to
which a long-haired dog was attached.

The town clerk and his companion inspected