at all in woman's ways, I thought the fair
girl was struggling between two fires. She rather liked Mr. Waterford,
on the one hand, and was very unwilling to commit herself by accepting
any of his delicate attentions, or by appearing to be pleased by his
compliments. In a word, I thought she liked him, but was afraid of him.
He was, as I have before intimated, a very good-looking fellow, elegant
and agreeable in his manners and speech. If he had been half as good as
he looked, he would have been worthy the beautiful girl at his side. It
was not very difficult for me to believe, after what I had heard her
father say, that she had been warned against him, and that duty and
inclination were struggling against each other in her mind.

"It is half past eleven, Phil," said Mr. Waterford, consulting his
watch. "Shall we have any dinner to-day?"

"Certainly, if you desire it," I replied, presenting myself before the
skipper in the standing-room.

"Whippleton says you are a cook, Phil. Is that so?"

"I can cook," I replied, modestly.

"Can you get up a dinner fit for a lady?" laughed Mr. Waterford.

"I can roast, bake, boil, broil, and fry. If the lady will be suited
with any of these, I will do the best I can to please her."

"I thought you were my father's clerk," added Miss Collingsby.

"I am."

"How do you happen to know how to cook, then?"

"I was brought up on the upper Missouri, where we had to do our own
cooking."

"Yes, Phil is a regular Indian fighter," laughed the skipper.

"What, this young man?"

"Yes, he has shot a thousand Indians in his day, and scalped them?"

"Phil?"

"Call it two or three," I added. "And we never were in the habit of
scalping them."

"Don't spoil a good story, Phil."

"We used to speak the truth in the woods, even when we were joking."

"Well, don't be too severe on us. We only speak the truth here when we
are addressing ladies."

"Just reverse the proposition, and it would be more correct," said
Marian.

"What shall we have for dinner?" I asked.

"Miss Collingsby must settle that point," answered the skipper.

"Give us a _fricandeau de veau_, and _beignets de pomme_."

"_Nous n'avons pas des pommes_," I replied.

"Is it possible! Do you speak French?" exclaimed Miss Collingsby.

"_Un peu_."

"Of course I did not mean what I said," laughed the gay young lady. "I
will have just what you happen to have. I did not think any one would
understand what I said."

"I