home late,
unusually tired, and was feeling the customary masculine displeasure at
having his hard-earned rest broken--a sensation which at the moment took
precedence over any more humanitarian emotions.

"We don't have to settle that to-night, do we?" demanded Jeff, with
scorn. "Hasn't the poor girl got enough on her hands without having you
scowl at her for trying to do the good Samaritan act--at three o'clock
in the morning?"

Jeff next turned his attention to Celia. He went into Charlotte's room,
picked up his elder sister without saying "by your leave," and carried
her off to her own bed.

"But, Jeff, I could help Charlotte," Celia remonstrated. "The poor baby
may be sick."

"Don't believe it. She's simply scared stiff at kimonos and pajamas and
bathrobes stalking round her in a strange house. Charlotte can cool her
down if anybody can. If she can't, I'll call the doctor. Now go to
sleep. Charlotte and I will man the ship to-night, and in the morning
you can go to work making duds for the baby. It didn't have anything to
wear round it but a summer cape and Mrs. O'Neill's plaid shawl."

This artful allusion touched Celia's tender heart and set her mind at
work, as Jeff had meant it should; so putting out her light, he slipped
away to Charlotte, exulting in having so promptly fixed things for her.

But Charlotte met him with anxious eyes. The baby was still screaming.

"See how she stiffens every now and then, and holds her breath till I
think she'll never breathe again!" she called in his ear. "I do really
think you'd better call Mrs. Fields. You can wake her with a knock on
her window. She sleeps in the little wing down-stairs."

As he hurried down the hall, the door of Captain Rayburn's room opened,
and Jeff met the quiet question, "What's up, lad?"

He stopped an instant to explain, encountered prompt sympathy, and laid
a hasty injunction upon his uncle not to attempt to assist Charlotte in
her dilemma. That gentleman hobbled back to bed, smiling tenderly to
himself in the dark--why, if he had seen him, Jeff never would have been
able to guess.

* * * * *

CHAPTER VII

"I've got a sewing-machine that I know the kinks of," said Mrs. Fields
to Celia and Charlotte and the baby, who regarded her with interest from
the couch, where they were grouped. "The doctor's going to be away all
day to-morrow, and if you'll all come over, we can get through a lot of
little cl