his age, in this county. Course, I'm not sellin'
him fer a four-year-old. But for your work, joggin' from the P'int into
the village an' back once or twice a week, I sh'd say he was jest the
ticket; an' forty-five, harness an' all as he stands, is dirt cheap."

Again Captain Bean tried to look critically at the white horse, but once
more he met that calm, curious gaze and the attempt was hardly a
success. However, the Captain squinted solemnly over Barnacles's withers
and remarked:

"Yes, he has got some good lines, as you say, though you wouldn't
hardly call him clipper built. Not much sheer for'ard an' a leetle too
much aft, eh?"

At this criticism Jed snorted mirthfully.

"Oh, I s'pose he's all right," quickly added the Captain. "Fact is, I
ain't never paid much attention to horses, bein' on the water so much.
You're sure he'll mind his helm, Jed?"

"Oh, he'll go where you p'int him."

"Won't drag anchor, will he?"

"Stand all day if you'll let him."

"Well, Jed, I'm ready to sign articles, I guess."

It was about noon that a stable-boy delivered Barnacles at Sculpin
Point. His arrival caused Lank Peters to suspend peeling the potatoes
for dinner and demand explanation.

"Who's the hoss for, Cap'n?" asked Lank.

It was a question that Captain Bean had been dreading for two hours.
When he had given up coasting, bought the strip of Massachusetts
seashore known as Sculpin Point, built a comfortable cottage on it and
settled down within sight and sound of the salt water, he had brought
with him Lank Peters, who for a dozen years had presided over the galley
in the Captain's ship.

More than a mere sea-cook was Lank Peters to Captain Bean. He was
confidential friend, advising philosopher, and mate of Sculpin Point.
Yet from Lank had the Captain carefully concealed all knowledge of his
affair with the Widow Buckett. The time of confession was at hand.

In his own way and with a directness peculiar to all his acts, did
Captain Bean admit the full sum of his rashness, adding, thoughtfully:
"I s'pose you won't have to do much cookin' after Stashia comes; but
you'll still be mate, Lank, and there'll be plenty to keep you busy on
the P'int."

Quietly and with no show of emotion, as befitted a sea-cook and a
philosopher, Melankthon Peters heard these revelations. If he had his
prejudices as to the wisdom or folly of marrying widows, he said no
word. But in the matter of Barnacles he felt more free to express
s