eat of enthusiasm. He
was surprised at her manner.

"Gee! You ARE strong for the old chap, aren't you?" he said. "Well,
admitting that he is all right, just why should I be proud of him? I AM
proud of my father, of course; he was somebody in the world."

"You mean he was somebody just because he was celebrated and lots of
people knew about him. Celebrated people aren't the only ones who do
worth while things. If I were you, I should be proud of Captain Zelotes
because he is what he has made himself. Nobody helped him; he did it
all. He was a sea captain and a good one. He has been a business man and
a good one, even if the business isn't so very big. Everybody here
in South Harniss--yes, and all up and down the Cape--knows of him and
respects him. My father says in all the years he has preached in his
church he has never heard a single person as much as hint that Captain
Snow wasn't absolutely honest, absolutely brave, and the same to
everybody, rich or poor. And all his life he has worked and worked hard.
What HE has belongs to him; he has earned it. That's why I should be
proud of him if he were my grandfather."

Her enthusiasm had continued all through this long speech. Albert
whistled.

"Whew!" he exclaimed. "Regular cheer for Zelotes, fellows! One--two--!
Grandfather's got one person to stand up for him, I'll say that. But why
this sudden outbreak about him, anyhow? It was me you were talking about
in the beginning--though I didn't notice any loud calls for cheers in
that direction," he added.

She ignored the last part of the speech. "I think you yourself made me
think of him," she replied. "Sometimes you remind me of him. Not often,
but once in a while. Just now, when we were climbing down that awful
place you seemed almost exactly like him. The way you knew just what to
do all the time, and your not hesitating a minute, and the way you took
command of the situation and," with a sudden laugh, "bossed me around;
every bit of that was like him, and not like you at all. Oh, I don't
mean that," she added hurriedly. "I mean it wasn't like you as you
usually are. It was different."

"Humph! Well, I must say--See here, Helen Kendall, what is it you expect
me to do; sail in and write two or three sonnets and a 'Come Into
the Garden, Maud,' some time next week? You're terribly keen about
Grandfather, but he has rather got the edge on me so far as age goes.
He's in the sixties, and I'm just about nineteen."

"When