If he had seen Captain Cy, at two o'clock the next morning, sitting by Bos'n's bedside and gazing hopelessly at the child, he would have realized that, if his former predictions were wiped off the slate and he could be judged by the one concerning the captain's sleepless night, he might thereafter pose as a true prophet. CHAPTER XI A BARGAIN OFF “Mornin', Georgianna,” said Captain Cy to his housekeeper as the latter unlocked the back door of the Whittaker house next morning. “I'm a little ahead of you this time.” Miss Taylor, being Bayport born and bred, was an early riser. She lodged with her sister, in Bassett's Hollow, a good half mile from the Cy Whittaker place, but she was always on hand at the latter establishment by six each morning, except Sundays. Now she glanced quickly at the clock. The time was ten minutes to six. “Land sakes!” she exclaimed. “I should say you was! What in the world got you up so early? Ain't sick, are you?” “No,” replied the captain wearily. “I ain't sick. I didn't sleep very well last night, that's all.” Georgianna looked sharply at him. His face was haggard and his eyes had dark circles under them. “Humph!” she grunted. “No, I guess you didn't. Looks to me as if you'd been up all night.” Then she added an anxious query: “'Tain't Bos'n--she ain't sick, I hope?” “No. She's all right. I say, Georgianna, you put on an extry plate this mornin'. Got company for breakfast.” The housekeeper was surprised. “For breakfast?” she repeated. “Land of goodness! who's comin' for breakfast? I never heard of company droppin' in for breakfast. That's one meal folks generally get to home. Who is it? Mr. Tidditt? Has Ketury turned him out door because he's too bad an example for her husband?” “No, 'tain't Ase. It's a--a friend of mine. Well, not exactly a friend, maybe, but an acquaintance from out of town. He came last evenin'. He's up in the spare bedroom.” “Well, I never! Come unexpected, didn't he? I wish I'd known he was comin'. That spare room bed ain't been aired I don't know when.” “I guess he can stand it. I cal'late he's slept in consider'ble worse--Hum! Yes, he did come kind of sudden.” “What's his name?” “What difference does that make? I don't know's his name makes any odds about gettin' his breakfast for him.” Georgianna was hurt. Her easy-going employer had never used this tone before when addressing her. “Oh!” she sniffed. “Is THAT the way you feel? All right! I can mind my own business, thank you. I only asked because it's convenient sometimes to know whether to call a person Bill Smith or Sol Jones. But I don't care if it's Nebuchadnezzar. I know when to keep my tongue still, I guess.” She flounced over to the range. Captain Cy looked ashamed of himself. “I'm kind of out of sorts to-day,” he said. “Got some headache. Why, his name is--is--yes, 'tis Smith, come to think of it--John Smith. Funny you should guess right, wan't it?”