“I ain’t judgin’ nobody, Mis’ Taft. I ain’t a-blamin’ Betty, an’ I ain’t a-blamin’ Caleb. I’m only thinkin’ of all the sufferin’ that poor child’s got to go through now, an’ what a mean world this is for her to have to live in.” “Serves the old man right for marrying a girl young enough to be his daughter,” said Carleton, with a laugh, tilting back his chair,—his favorite attitude. “I made up my mind the first day I saw her that she was a little larky. She’s been fooling West all summer,—anybody could see that.” He had not forgiven the look in Caleb’s eye that afternoon aboard the Screamer. “When ’s the captain coming home?” Aunty Bell looked at the superintendent, her lips curling, as the hard, dry laugh rang in her ears. She had never fancied him, and she liked him less now than ever. Her first impulse was to give him a piece of her mind,—an indigestible morsel when served hot. Then she remembered that her husband was having some difficulty with him about the acceptance of the concrete disk, and so her temper, chilled by this more politic second thought, cooled down and stiffened into a frigid determination not to invite him to dinner if she ate nothing herself all day. “Cap’n 'll be here in the mornin’,” she answered curtly. “Got any message for him?” “Yes. Tell him I was out to the Ledge yesterday with my transit, and the concrete is too low by six inches near the southeast derrick. It’s got to come up to grade before I can certify. I thought I’d come in and tell him,—he wanted to know.” The door opened, and the tall form of Captain Bob Brandt, the Screamer’s skipper, entered. “Excuse me, Mis’ Bell,” he said, removing his hat and bowing good-humoredly to everybody. “I saw ye pass, Mr. Carleton, an’ I wanted to tell ye that we’re ready now to h’ist sail fur the Ledge. We got 'leven stone on. Caleb ain’t workin’ this week, an’ one o’ the other divers’s a-goin’ to set ’em. Guess it’s all right; the worst is all done. Will you go out with us, or trust me to git ’em right?” “Well, where are you going to put ’em?” asked Carleton in his voice of authority. “Las’ time Caleb was down, sir, he said he wanted four more stone near the boat-landin’, in about twelve foot o’ water, to finish that row; then we kin begin another layer nex’ to ’em, if ye say so. S’pose you know Cap’n Joe ain’t here?—gone to New York. Will you go with us?” “No; you set ’em. I’ll come out in the tug in the morning and drop a rod on ’em, and if they’re not right you’ll have to take 'em up again. That concrete’s out of level, you know.” “What concrete?” “Why, the big circular disk,” snapped Carleton. This was only another excuse of Carleton’s for refusing to sign the certificate. The engineer had postponed his visit, and so this fresh obstruction was necessary to maintain his policy of delay. “Not when I see it, sir, three days ago,” said Captain Brandt in surprise. “It was dead low water, an’ the tide jest touched the edges of the outer band all round even.”