with you," said the captain
grimly. "And while I think of it, I'll step round and stop those banns."
His daughter caught him by the arm as he was passing, and laid her face
on his sleeve. "You'll make me look so foolish," she wailed.

"That'll make it easier for you to come to sea with me," said her
father. "Don't cry all over my sleeve. I'm going to see a parson. Run
upstairs and play with your dolls, and if you're a good girl, I'll bring
you in some sweets." He put on his hat, and closing the front door with
a bang, went off to the new rector to knock two years off the age which
his daughter kept for purposes of matrimony. The rector, grieved at such
duplicity in one so young, met him more than half way, and he came out
from him smiling placidly, until his attention was attracted by a young
man on the other side of the road, who was regarding him with manifest
awkwardness.

"Good evening, Captain Polson," he said, crossing the road.

"Oh," said the captain, stopping, "I wanted to speak to you. I suppose
you wanted to marry my daughter while I was out of the way, to save
trouble. Just the manly thing I should have expected of you. I've
stopped the banns, and I'm going to take her for a voyage with me.
You'll have to look elsewhere, my lad."

"The ill feeling is all on your side, captain," said Metcalfe,
reddening.

"Ill feeling!" snorted the captain. "You put me in the witness-box, and
made me a laughing-stock in the place with your silly attempts at jokes,
lost me five hundred pounds, and then try and marry my daughter while
I'm at sea. Ill feeling be hanged!"

"That was business," said the other.

"It was," said the captain, "and this is business too. Mine. I'll look
after it, I'll promise you. I think I know who'll look silly this time.
I'd sooner see my girl in heaven than married to a rascal of a lawyer."

"You'd want good glasses," retorted Metcalfe, who was becoming ruffled.

"I don't want to bandy words with you," said the captain with dignity,
after a long pause, devoted to thinking of something worth bandying.
"You think you're a clever fellow, but I know a cleverer. You're quite
welcome to marry my daughter--if you can."

He turned on his heel, and refusing to listen to any further remarks,
went on his way rejoicing. Arrived home, he lit his pipe, and throwing
himself into an armchair, related his exploits. Chrissie had recourse to
her handkerchief again, more for effect than use, but Miss Polson,