When the captain emerged from the hold he was hardly recognizable.
Instead of his common sleeved waist coat and overalls, he was attired in
a dark blue suit of broadcloth, the vest and frock coat of which were
resplendent with gilt buttons. These clothes, with a befitting peaked
cap and a pair of polished boots, had evidently come out of the large
bundle he had brought from Belle Ewart, where the garments had probably
done Sunday duty, for a smaller bundle, which he now threw upon the
deck, contained his discarded working dress. Wilkinson was confirmed, by
the spectacle presented, in his dire suspicion that the captain's niece
would appear at Barrie, and, then and there, begin an acquaintance with
him that might have the most disastrous consequences. But hope springs
eternal in the human breast, as the poet says, so the schoolmaster
tackled the commander, congratulated him on his fine appearance, and
began to pump him as to the whereabouts of Miss Carmichael. The old
gentleman, for such he looked now, was somewhat vain in an off-hand sort
of way, and felt that he was quite the dominie's equal. He was cheerful,
even jovial, in spite of the contrary assertions of The Crew, as he
replied to Wilkinson's interrogations.

"Ah, you sly young dog," he said, "I see what you're at now. You'd like
to hear that the pair of them are waiting for us at Barrie; but they're
not. They've gone to stay with my brother-in-law, Carruthers, in the
County of Grey, where I'll go and see their pretty faces myself in a few
days."

Wilkinson swallowed the "sly young dog" for the sake of the
consolation, and, hurriedly making his way aft, communicated the joyful
news to Coristine. That gentleman much amused The Crew by throwing an
arm round the schoolmaster's waist and waltzing his unwilling partner
over the deck. All went merry as a marriage bell till the waltzers
struck a rope coil, when, owing to the dominie's struggles, they went
down together. Recovering themselves, they sat on deck glaring at each
other.

"You're a perfect idiot, Coristine."

"You're a regular old muff, Wilkinson."

The Crew, thinking this was a special pantomime got up impromptu for his
benefit, roared with laughter, and applauded on the tiller. He was about
to execute a hoedown within tiller limits to testify his sympathy with
the fun, when the captain appeared in all his Sunday finery.

"Let her away, you laughing hyena," he yelled to the unlucky Sylvanus,
who reg