“Humph!” was the ungracious answer. “Names don't interest me, I tell you.” The captain was in the dining room when Bos'n appeared. “Good morning, Uncle Cyrus,” she said. “You've been waiting, haven't you? Am I late? I didn't mean to be.” “No, no! you ain't late. Early, if anything. Breakfast ain't quite ready yet. Come here and set in my lap. I want to talk to you.” He took her on his knee. She looked up into his face. “What's the matter, Uncle Cy?” she asked. “What makes you so sober?” “Sober? If you ain't the oldest young one for eight years I ever saw! Why, I ain't sober. No, no! Say, Bos'n, do you like your school as well as ever?” “Yes, sir. I like it better all the time.” “Do, hey? And that teacher woman--go on likin' her?” The child nodded emphatically. “Yes, sir,” she said. “And I haven't been kept after since that once.” “Sho! sho! Course you ain't'! So you think Bayport's as nice as Concord, do you?” “Oh! lots nicer! If mamma was only here I'd never want to be anywhere else. And not then, maybe, unless you was there, too.” “Hum! Want to know! Say, Bos'n, how would you feel if you had to go somewheres else?” “To live? Have we got to? I'd feel dreadful, of course. But if you've got to go, Uncle Cyrus, why--” “Me? No; I ain't got to go anywheres. But 'twas you I was thinkin' of. Wouldn't want to leave the old man, hey?” “To leave YOU! Oh, Uncle Cyrus!” She was staring at him now and her chin was trembling. “Uncle,” she demanded, “you ain't going to send me away? Haven't I been a good girl?” The captain's lips shut tight. He waited a moment before replying. “'Deed you've been a good girl!” he said brusquely. “I never saw a better one. No, I ain't goin' to SEND you away. Don't you worry about that.” “But Alicia Atkins said one time you told somebody you was going to send me out West, after a while. I didn't believe it, then, she's so mean, but she said you said--” “SAID!” Captain Cy groaned. “The Lord knows what I ain't said! I've been a fool, dearie, and it's a judgment on me, I guess.” “But ain't you goin' to keep me? I--I--” She sobbed. The captain stroked her hair. “Keep you?” he muttered. “Yes, by the big dipper! I'm goin' to keep you, if I can--if I can.” “Hello!” said a voice. The pair looked up. The man who had arrived on the previous night stood in the sitting-room doorway. How long he had been standing there the captain did not know. What he did know was that Mr. John Smith by daylight was not more prepossessing than the same individual viewed by the aid of a lamp. Emily saw the stranger and slid from Captain Cy's knees. The captain rose. “Bos'n,” he said, “this is Mr.--er--Smith, who's goin' to make us a little visit. I want you to shake hands with him.” The girl dutifully approached Mr. Smith and extended her hand. He took it and held it in his own. “Is this the--” he began. Captain Cy bowed assent.