“Hope you left the commodore and all the family well, sir?” hospitably inquired John. “Quite well, thank you, Mr. Palmer. And I have no doubt, if they had known I was coming here, they would have sent kindest remembrances to you and your daughter,” replied Ronald Bruce. “Oh! They didn’t know you were coming, then?” “No. They were all taking their Sunday afternoon naps in their chambers when I left home.” “Ah! Well, I am very glad to see you, Lieutenant, I am sure! Always take such pleasure in your sea stories! It’s almost like going to sea myself to hear you! And—well, I was thinking only to-day that the first time I should see you I would ask you how you spend Sundays on board ship. How _do_ you, anyhow?” “Well,” laughed the young man, “as variously as you do on land. It depends on the character of the captain of the ship at sea, as it does on the master of the house ashore. Of course, much of the routine of ship duty must go on, just as some housework must be done. If the captain of the ship is a religious man we have divine service in the forenoon. In the afternoon every one spends his leisure as he pleases. I remember one Sunday afternoon——” And here, to please his desired father-in-law, Ronald Bruce launched into a sea story that soon absorbed all the attention of the family party. Even old ’Sias and Aunt Monica stepped in and sat down in an obscure corner to listen. And not until it was finished could Mrs. Whitlock make up her mind to steal away and prepare an extra supper for the guest. Then old Monica and Uncle ’Sias followed to lend their aid. “I never see such idiwuts as John Palmer and Susan is! Do they think as that young hossifer comes here for the pleasure of seeing them, I wonder? Why don’t they all make some excuse and leave the young folks together and give ’em a chance!” burst forth Mrs. Whitlock as soon as she found herself in the kitchen. “If he comes here after Miss Em., dey is right not to give him a chance to court her, ’cause no good can’t come out’n that; he being of a rich young gentleman, an’ she——” “A _lady_, every inch of her,” broke in Mrs. Whitlock, cutting Aunt Monica’s speech short. “And so she may be in her ways an’ manners, an’ I don’t deny so she is. But, la! dat ain’t what _his_ people would look at. Ole Marse Commodore Bruce is particular. Why, chillun, I used to know dat ole man good, an’ hear him talk, when he came to our old Marse Captain Wyndeworth’s oyster suppers. Bless patience, honeys, _blood_ was his first ’sideration an’ _money_ was his second, an’ dat was all he would look at. An’ ’less our young gal had blood an’ money, he’d never ’sent to ’ceiving _her_ inter de Bruce famberly.” “I’d risk it,” said Ann Whitlock, as she addressed herself to the task of preparing a dainty supper for the guest to tempt him to repeat his visits, if other inducements besides Em. should be necessary.