ong the surf.

The old man whiffed the smell of the coffee, tempted, yet withheld by
the thought of Angy's horror, and the horror of the twenty-nine sisters.

"Cap'n Abe"--Clarence Havens, No. 5, with a big iron spoon in his hand
and a blue gingham apron tied around his bronzed neck, put him on his
mettle, however--"Cap'n Abe, I tell yew, we wouldn't have waked no other
fellow of your age out of a sound sleep. Cap'n Darby, he could snooze
till doomsday; but we knowed you wouldn't want to miss no fun a-going."

"Cap'n Sam'l does show his years," Abe admitted. "Much obliged fer yew
a-wakin' me up, boys," as he drew on his boots. "I was dreamin' I was
hungry. Law, I wish I had a dollar apiece fer all the eyester-stews I've
et on this here table 'twixt sunset an' sunrise."

Under the stimulus of the unaccustomed repast, Abe expanded and began to
tell yarns of the old days on the Beach--the good old days. His cheeks
grew red, his eyes sparkled. He smoked and leaned back from the table,
and ate and drank, smoked and ate again.

"A week amongst yew boys," he asserted gaily, "is a-goin' tew be the
makin' of me. Haow Sam'l kin waste so much time in sleep, I can't
understand."

"I don't think he is asleep," said No. 3. "When I was up-stairs jest
now fer my slippers, I heard him kind o' sniffin' inter his piller."

The laugh which followed brought the keeper out of the office in his
carpet slippers, a patchwork quilt over his shoulders. His quick eyes
took in the scene--the lamp sputtering above the table, the empty
dishes, the two members of the crew sleepily jocular, with their blue
flannel elbows spread over the board, the old man's rumpled bed, and his
brilliant cheeks and bright eyes.

"Boys, you shouldn't have woke up Cap'n Rose," he said reprovingly. "I'm
afraid, sir," turning to Abraham, "that you find our manners pretty
rough after your life among the old ladies."

Abe dropped his eyes in confusion. Was he never to be rid of those
apron-strings:

"Well, there's worse things than good women," proceeded the captain. "I
wish we had a few over here." He sighed with the quiet, dull manner of
the men who have lived long on the Beach. "Since they made the rule that
the men must eat and sleep in the station, it's been pretty lonely.
That's why there's so many young fellows in the Service nowadays;
married men with families won't take the job."

"Them empty cottages out thar," admitted Abe, pointing to the window,
"do