“Well, you see, ma'am, she ain't really my daughter. Bos'n here--that's my nickname for her, ma'am--she and I was out walkin'. I set down in the pines and I guess I must have dozed off. Anyhow, when I woke up she was gone, and the first thing I knew of this scrape was hearin' her hail.” The little woman's manner changed. Her gray eyes flashed indignantly. “You dozed off?” she repeated. “With a little girl in your charge, and in the very next lot to that cow? Didn't you know the creature chased women and girls?” “Why, yes; I'd heard of it, but--” “It wasn't Uncle Cyrus's fault,” put in Bos'n eagerly. “It was mine. I went away by myself.” Beyond shifting her gaze to the child the lady paid no attention to this remark. “What do you think her mother 'll say when she sees that dress?” she asked. It was Emily's best gown, the finest of the new “rig out” prepared by Miss Taylor. The girl and Captain Cy gazed ruefully at the rents and pitch stains made by the vines and pine trees. “Well, you see,” replied the abashed captain, “the fact is, she ain't got any mother.” “Oh! I beg your pardon. And hers, too, poor dear. Well, if I were you I shouldn't go to sleep next time I took her walking. Good afternoon.” She turned and calmly walked down the path. At the bend she spoke again. “I should be gentle with her, if I were you,” she said. “Her nerves are pretty well upset. Besides, if you'll excuse my saying so, I don't think she is the one that needs scolding.” They thought she had gone, but she turned once more to add a final suggestion. “I think that dress could be fixed,” she said, “if you took it to some one who knew about such things.” She disappeared amidst the graveyard shrubbery. Captain Cy and Bos'n slowly followed her. From the pasture the red and white cow sent after them a broken-spirited “Moo!” Bos'n was highly indignant. During the homeward walk she sputtered like a damp firecracker. “The idea of her talking so to you, Uncle Cyrus!” she exclaimed. “It wasn't your fault at all.” The captain smiled one-sidedly. “I don't know about that, shipmate,” he said. “I wouldn't wonder if she was more than half right. But say! she was all business and no frills, wasn't she! Ha, ha! How she did spunk up to that heifer! Who in the dickens do you cal'late she is?” CHAPTER VIII THE “COW LADY” That question was answered the very next day. Bos'n, carefully dressed by Georgianna under the captain's supervision, and weighted down with advice and counsel from the latter, started for the schoolhouse at a quarter to nine. Only a sense of shame kept Captain Cy from walking to school with her. He spent a miserable forenoon. They were quite the longest three hours in his varied experience. The house was dreadfully lonely. He wandered from kitchen to sitting room, worried Georgianna, woke up the cat, and made a complete nuisance of himself. Twelve o'clock found him leaning over the gate and looking eagerly in the direction of the schoolhouse.