picket fence?"

"Well, now, that ain't it. That's a picture of the A1 two-masted
schooner Flyin' Duck, and the waves is only thrown in, as you might say.
The reel thing is the schooner, rigged jest right, trimmed jest right,
and colored jest the way the Flyin' Duck was colored. You understand
them waves was put there jest 'cause there had to be some to set the
schooner in, that's all."

"But you needn't feel bad, Elsie," said Captain Jerry soothingly.
"'Tain't to be expected that you could paint vessels like Eben Lothrop
can. Eben he used to work in a shipyard up to East Boston once, and when
he was there he had to paint schooners and things, reely put the paint
onto 'em I mean, so, of course, when it come to paintin' pictures of
'em, why--"

And Captain Jerry waved his hand.

So, as there was no answer to an argument like this, Miss Preston gave
up marine painting for the time and began a water-color of the house and
its inmates. This was an elaborate affair, and as the captains insisted
that each member of the family, Daniel and Lorenzo included, should
pose, it seemed unlikely to be finished for some months, at least.

Ralph Hazeltine called on the afternoon following Elsie's arrival, and
Captain Eri insisted on his staying to tea. It might have been noticed
that the electrician seemed a trifle embarrassed when Miss Preston came
into the room, but as the young lady was not embarrassed in the least,
and had apparently forgotten the mistaken-identity incident, his
nervousness soon wore off.

But it came back again when Captain Eri said:

"Oh, I say, Mr. Hazeltine, I forgot to ask you, did 'Gusty come
yesterday?"

Ralph answered, rather hurriedly, that she did not. He endeavored to
change the subject, but the Captain wouldn't let him.

"Well, there!" he exclaimed amazedly; "if 'Gusty ain't broke her record!
Fust time sence Perez was took with the 'Naval Commander' disease that
she ain't been on hand when the month was up, to git her two dollars.
Got so we sort of reckoned by her like an almanac. Kind of thought she
was sure, like death and taxes. And now she has gone back on us. Blessed
if I ain't disapp'inted in 'Gusty!"

"Who is she?" inquired Mrs. Snow. "One of those book-agent critters?"

"Well, if you called her that to her face, I expect there'd be squalls,
but I cal'late she couldn't prove a alibi in court."

Now it may have been Mr. Hazeltine's fancy, but he could have sworn that
there was just th