ur would be lost.

"The thing is to take an all-round view," he said to Captain.
Trimblett, of the SS. _Indian Chief_, as he strolled back with that
elderly mariner from the ship to the office one day.

"That's it, sir," said the captain.

"Don't waste, and, at the same time, don't pinch," continued Mr. Robert,
oracularly.

"That's business in a nutshell," commented the captain. "Don't spoil
the ship for a ha'porth of tar, and, on the other hand, don't get
leaving the tar about for other people to sit on."

"But you got it off," said Robert, flushing. "You told me you had."

"As far as tar ever can be got off," asserted the captain, gloomily.
"Yes. Why I put my best trousers on this morning," he continued, in a
tone of vague wonder, "I'm sure I don't know. It was meant to be, I
suppose; it's all for some wise purpose: that we don't know of."

"Wise fiddlesticks!" exclaimed Robert, shortly--"Your particular brand
of fatalism is the most extraordinary nonsense I ever heard of. What it
means: is that thousands of years ago, or millions, perhaps, was decided
that I should be born on purpose to tar your blessed trousers."

"That and other things," said the immovable captain. "It's all laid
down for us, everything we do, and we can't help doing it. When I put on
those trousers this morning--"

"Oh, hang your trousers," said Robert. "You said it didn't matter, and
you've been talking about nothing else ever since."

"I won't say another word about it," said the captain. "I remember the
last pair I had done; a pair o' white ducks. My steward it was; one o'
those silly, fat-headed, staring-eyed, garping--"

"Go on," said the other, grimly.

"Nice, bright young fellows," concluded the captain, hastily; "he got on
very well, I believe."

"After he left you, I suppose?" said Mr. Vyner, smoothly.

"Yes," said the innocent captain. He caught a glance of the other's face
and ruminated. "After I had broken him of his silly habits," he added.

He walked along smiling, and, raising his cap with a flourish, beamed
in a fatherly manner on a girl who was just passing. Robert replaced his
hat and glanced over his left shoulder.

"Who is that?" he inquired. "I saw her the other day; her face seems
familiar to me."

"Joan Hartley," replied the captain. "Nathaniel Hartley's daughter. To
my mind, the best and prettiest girl in Salthaven."

[Illustration: Best and prettiest girl in Salthaven 024]

"Eh?" said the other, star