Anthony stopped his car in front of a small shop, whose lights struggled faintly against the gloom. Crossing the threshold, he went from a world of dampness and chill into the warmth and cheer of an old-fashioned fish house. For fifty years there had been no change in Lillibridge's. The floor of the main room was bare and clean, and, in the middle, a round black stove radiated comfort on cold days. Along one side of the room ran three stalls, in which were placed tables for such patrons as might desire partial privacy. On the spick and span counter were set forth various condiments and plates of crackers. A card, tacked up on the wall, tempted the appetite with its list of sea foods. Anthony wanted nothing to eat. He ordered coffee, and went into one of the stalls to drink it. But a man at one of the tables in the main part of the room wanted more than coffee. He was a little man in a blue reefer, but he had, evidently, more than a little appetite. As Anthony sat down, he was just finishing a bowl of chowder, and was gazing with eyes of hungry appreciation upon various dishes of fried fish and fried potatoes, of hot rolls and pickles which were being set before him. "You'd better have some, doctor," was his hoarse invitation. "Too tired," said Anthony. "I'll wait till I've had a bath and rub-down before I eat----" "What you need," said the little man, between large mouthfuls, "is a good day's fishin'. You come out to-morrow morning, and we'll catch some cod." The doctor's tired eyes brightened. "There's nothing that I'd like better, captain, but I've got an old man ill of pneumonia, and there's a girl with appendicitis." "There you go," said the little man; "if it wasn't a girl with appendicitis, it would be a kid with the colic, or a lady with a claim to heart trouble. What you've got to do, doctor, is to cut it all out and come with me." Anthony shook his head. "Suppose some one had said to you when you sailed the seas that you could leave the ship----?" "I shouldn't have left," said the little man, "but I didn't have such a look as you've got in your eyes. What you need is a good night's sleep, and a day's fishin'. And you need it now." Having eaten presently his last morsel, he ordered a piece of pie. "There's nothing like sea air to blow your brains clear," he stated. "And when this fog lifts, it'll be fine fishin' weather." Again the doctor shook his head. "I'd like it, more than a little, but I've got to stick to my post." Captain Stubbs began on his pie, and remarked, "The trouble with you is that you're mixed up with too many wimmen." Anthony's head went up. "What do you mean?" "Wimmen," said the little captain, "are bad enough anyhow. But when you have to handle a lot of wimmen with nerves, then the Lord help you." He said it so solemnly that Anthony threw back his head and laughed.