The housekeeper was white as the tablecloth. She stared at the Jones man as if she couldn't believe her eyes, and her breath come short and quick. I thought sure she was going to cry. And what she ate of that meal wouldn't have made a lunch for a hearty humming-bird. When 'twas finished I went out on the porch to think things over. The dining room winder was open and Jonesy was clearing the table. All of a sudden I heard him say, low and earnest: “Well, aren't you going to speak to me?” The answer was in a girl's voice, and I knew the voice. It said: “You! YOU! How COULD you? Why did you come?” “You didn't think I could stay away, did you?” “But how did you know I was here? I tried so hard to keep it a secret.” “It took me a month, but I worked it out finally. Aren't you glad to see me?” She burst out crying then, quiet, but as if her heart was broke. “Oh!” she sobs. “How could you be so cruel! And they've been so kind to me here.” I went away then, thinking harder than ever. At dinner Jonesy done the waiting, but Mabel wa'n't on deck. She had a headache, the cook said, and was lying down. 'Twas the same way at supper, and after supper Peter Brown comes to me, all broke up, and says he: “There's merry clink to pay,” he says. “Mabel's going to leave.” “No?” says I. “She ain't neither!” “Yes, she is. She says she's going to-morrer. She won't tell me why, and I've argued with her for two hours. She's going to quit, and I'd rather enough sight quit myself. What'll we do?” says he. I couldn't help him none, and he went away, moping and miserable. All round the place everybody was talking about the “lovely” new waiter, and to hear the girls go on you'd think the Prince of Wales had landed. Jonadab was the only kicker, and he said 'twas bad enough afore, but now that new dude had shipped, 'twa'n't the place for a decent, self-respecting man. “How you goin' to order that Grand Panjandrum around?” he says. “Great land of Goshen! I'd as soon think of telling the Pope of Rome to empty a pail of swill as I would him. Why don't he stay to home and be a tailor's sign or something? Not prance around here with his high-toned airs. I'm glad you've got him, Barzilla, and not me.” Well, most of that was plain jealousy, so I didn't contradict. Besides I was too busy thinking. By eight o'clock I'd made up my mind and I went hunting for Jones. I found him, after a while, standing by the back door and staring up at the chamber winders as if he missed something. I asked him to come along with me. Told him I had a big cargo of talk aboard, and wouldn't be able to cruise on an even keel till I'd unloaded some of it. So he fell into my wake, looking puzzled, and in a jiffy we was planted in the rocking chairs up in my bedroom. “Look here,” says I, “Mr.--Mr.--” “Jones,” says he. “Oh, yes--Jones. It's a nice name.” “I remember it beautifully,” says he, smiling.