Captain Davis laughed. “I've seen fo'mast hands try to take advantage of that easy-goin' way 'fore now,” he said, “but they never did it but once. Cap'n Eri is one of the finest fellers that ever stepped, but you can't stomp on his toes much, and he's clear grit inside. And say,” he added, “don't you tell anybody I told that story, for he'd skin me alive if he knew it.” As they walked back toward the station Ralph and Elsie lingered a little behind the others, and then stopped to watch a big four-master that, under full sail, was spinning along a mile or two from the beach. They watched it for a moment or two without speaking. Elsie's cheeks were brown from the sun, stray wisps of her hair fluttered in the wind, and her trim, healthy figure stood out against the white sandhill behind them as if cut from cardboard. The electrician looked at her, and again the thought of that disgraceful “'Gusty” Black episode was forced into his mind. They had had many a good laugh over it since, and Elsie had apparently forgotten it, but he had not, by a good deal. She was the first to speak, and then as much to herself as to him. “I think they are the best people I ever knew,” she said. “Who?” he asked. “Oh, all of them! The captains and Mrs. Snow, and Captain Davis and his sister. They are so simple and kind and generous. And the best of it is, they don't seem to know it, and wouldn't believe it if you told them.” Ralph nodded emphatically. “I imagine it would take a good deal to convince Davis or any of these station men that there was anything heroic in their lives,” he said. “As for Captain Eri, I have known him only a month or two, but I don't know of anyone to whom I would rather go if I were in trouble.” “He has been so kind to grandfather and me,” said Elsie, “that I feel as though we were under an obligation we never could repay. When I came down here I knew no one in Orham, and he and Captain Jerry and Captain Perez have made me feel more at home than I have ever felt before. You know,” she added, “grandfather is the only relative I have.” “I suppose you will go back to your studies when your grandfather recovers.” “I don't know. If grandfather is well enough I think I shall try to persuade him to come up to Boston and live with me. Then I might perhaps teach. This was to have been my last year at Radcliffe, so my giving it up will not make so much difference. Do you intend to stay here long? I suppose you do. Your profession, I know, means so much to you, and your work at the station must be very interesting.”