to sail around often.”
“I guess you will.”
“Yes, ma’am, you’re too pretty for this corner of the woods.”
Estelle blushed and shook her head.
“But that’s the gospel truth, sure as I’m Dick Smiley. And I can see you’re too sensible to get mad at any one for telling the truth.”
“Oh, Captain, I’m afraid you’re a flirt,” simpered Estelle.
“Me, flirt? Never. Not on your diamond ear-rings!”
“Sh! What would Ed think if he was to come in and hear you talking like that?”
Spencer, in truth, was already on the steps; in another moment he came into the room at the head of his men. And Dick, suddenly aware that his tongue was taking liberties with him, shut his lips tight and refused to speak another word throughout the meal. In vain the lumberman rallied him; in vain the men made advances; in vain Estelle, who was waiting on table, threw him glances from behind Spencer’s chair or let her hand brush his in passing him the potatoes; from a flushed, talkative man, Dick had turned abruptly into a silent, moody one, and he ate steadily, with eyes for nothing but his food.
The meal was nearly over when Spencer, looking around the table, said, “Hello, where’s Pete?”
“He’s busy,” replied one of the men, “said he’d be a little late.”
“Well, if he likes his vittles cold, I guess it’s his own funeral.”
“There he is now, outside there.”
At this Spencer pushed back his chair and went to the window. “Hello, there, Pete,” he called. “Ain’t you coming to dinner?”
“Yes, be right along.”
Dick stopped eating at the sound of the last voice, and listened, his fork in the air, for what was coming next. Hearing nothing further, he faced around and watched the door. A moment later in came Roche, trying to greet the men without looking at his former captain, and sliding into his chair with averted face.
“Mr. Roche, don’t you know Cap’n Smiley?” said Spencer.
“Yes, yes, I know him. How are you, Cap’n?”
“How are you, Pete? How’d you get here?”
“Oh, I – ” Roche was embarrassed. “I used to work for Mr. Spencer, and when I left you he took me back.”
Dick merely grunted, and went on eating.
“Here, Estelle!” called Spencer. “Estelle, Cap’n Smiley’d like another piece o’ pie. Ain’t Estelle there, Josie?”
Mrs. Spencer appeared in the kitchen doorway. “No, she ain’t here.”
“Why, I just saw her a minute or so ago.”
“She said it was hot in the kitchen and stepped outside. What is it you want?”
“Cap’n Smiley’d like some more pie.”
“All right, I ‘ll get it for him.”
Dick bolted the second helping in the silence that had enveloped him since the meal began. Then he got up, said something about the schooner that nobody quite understood, and left the house.
Matters were going slowly at the wharf.
There was still a small pile of timber, and another of shingles waiting to be loaded. So far as Dick could see, Harper seemed to be directing the work.
“What are you doing there, Pink?” he demanded, in a tone that made Pink look curiously at him before replying.
“Loadin’ up.”
“Where’s McGlory?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know! Well, why in – don’t you know?”
“I ‘ll tell you, Cap’n.”
“Oh, you ‘ll tell me, will you?”
“Yes, I will. Mr. McGlory was awful partic’lar about the first load o’ stuff that went aboard, handled most of it hisself, and made us work slow, an’ then he just naturally quit workin’ and walked off without sayin’ a word, an’ so I an’ the boys have been tryin’ to hustle it aboard, like you said, without him.”
“Quit workin’! What right’s he got to quit workin’?”
“I don’t know, Cap’n.”
Two of the sailors, standing near by, had been watching their captain during this talk.
Now one of them turned away to hide a grin.
“What are you grinning about there?” roared Dick.
“I wasn’t grinnin’, Cap’n.”
“Oh, you wasn’t. Get to work, then, and shut your mouths. You’re a lot o’ loafers, that’s what you are. Hustle, now!” He lent a strong hand himself, glad to vent in work the explosives that were working in his head; and as he worked he muttered, “So we quit workin’ when we’re tired, do we?”
Meanwhile the mate was strolling in the forest a few hundred yards away with Estelle. He was looking closely at her, as they walked, from under heavy eyebrows. She was flushing a very little and studying the sand at her feet.
“Who’s been giving you that kind o’ talk about me?” he was asking.
“Why – I don’t know as it was anybody especial.”
“You didn’t believe it, did you?”
“N-no – but you see, you told me you were coming right back, and then you didn’t – and I didn’t know whether I was ever going to see you again or not. I thought – ”
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