"I'm not an observant man over
such matters; in fact, I woke up only three months ago to find how blind
I could be; but in your case I did have a few suspicions; for you young
men are very transparent."

"Really, Sir Mark, I assure you," faltered Stratton, "I have been most
guarded."

"Of course you have, my lad. Well, I am a poor pilot in love matters,
but I don't see here why we should not go straight ahead. You are both
young and suitable for each other. Rebecca swears by you, and I confess
that I rather like you when you are not so confoundedly learned."

"Sir Mark!" cried Stratton, his voice husky with emotion, "in my wildest
moments I never thought--"

"That I should be such an easy-going fellow, eh? But we are running too
fast, boy. There is the young lady to think about."

"Of course--of course, sir."

"Not the custom to consult the ship about her captain, but we will
here," cried Sir Mark with a laugh; "they generally appoint the captain
right off. We'll have her down, bless her. A good girl, Stratton, and
I congratulate you."

"But one moment, sir," faltered the young man; "is it kind--so
suddenly--give me leave to speak to her first."

"No," said the old sailor abruptly; "she shall come down, and it shall
be _yes_ or _no_ right off."

He rang the bell sharply, and then crossed back to Stratton, and shook
his hand again.

"You've behaved very well indeed, my lad," he said; "and I like you for
it. I never knew your father, but he must have been a gentleman. Your
mother, Becky's friend, was as sweet a lady as I ever met."

The butler entered.

"Mr Barron gone?"

"No, Sir Mark."

"Don't matter. Go and ask Miss Perrin to step down here."

The butler bowed, and left the room.

Stratton started from his seat with his face ghastly.

"Hullo, my lad! what's the matter? Time for action, and afraid to meet
that saucy little thing. I say, you scientific fellows make poor
lovers. Hold up, man, or she'll laugh at you."

"Sir Mark!" gasped Stratton. "Ring again--a horrible mistake on your
part."

"What the deuce do you mean, sir? You come and propose for my niece's
hand--"

"No; no, Sir Mark," cried the young man wildly.

"What! Why I've seen you attentive to her a score of times. I say
again, what the deuce do you mean? Why--why--you were not talking about
my own child?"

"My words all related to Miss Jerrold, Sir Mark," said Stratton, now
speaking in a voice full of despai