"He's second mate on the Susan, sir, that is expected in every day." "Umph! umph! Take a glass of wine, Capitola." "No, sir; I never touch a single drop." "Why? Why? Good wine after dinner, my child, is a good thing, let me tell you." "Ah, sir, my life has shown me too much misery that has come of drinking wine." "Well, well, as you please. Why, where has the girl run off to!" exclaimed the old man, breaking off, and looking with amazement at Capitola, who had suddenly started up and rushed out of the room. In an instant she rushed in again, exclaiming: "Oh, he's come! he's come! I heard his voice!" "Whose come, you madcap?" inquired the old man. "Oh, Herbert Greyson! Herbert Greyson! His ship is in, and he has come here! He always comes here--most of the sea officers do," exclaimed Cap, dancing around until all her black ringlets flew up and down. Then suddenly pausing, she came quietly to his side and said, solemnly: "Uncle, Herbert has been at sea three years; he knows nothing of my past misery and destitution, nor of my ever wearing boy's clothes. Uncle, please don't tell him, especially of the boy's clothes." And in the earnestness of her appeal Capitola clasped her hands and raised her eyes to the old man's face. How soft those gray eyes looked when praying! But for all that, the very spirit of mischief still lurked about the corners of the plump, arched lips. "Of course I shall tell no one! I am not so proud of your masquerading as to publish it. And as for this young fellow, I shall probably never see him!" exclaimed Old Hurricane. CHAPTER VIII. HERBERT GREYSON. A kind, true heart, a spirit high, That cannot fear and will not bow, Is flashing in his manly eye And stamped upon his brow. --Halleck. In a few minutes Capitola came bounding up the stairs again, exclaiming joyously: "Here he is, uncle! Here is Herbert Greyson! Come along, Herbert; you must come in and see my new uncle!" And she broke into the room, dragging before her astonished guardian a handsome, dark-eyed young sailor, who bowed and then stood blushing at his enforced intrusion. "I beg your pardon, sir," he said, "for bursting in upon you in this way; but----" "I dragged him here willy-nilly," said Capitola. "Still, if I had had time to think I should not have intruded." "Oh, say no more, sir. You are heartily welcome," exclaimed the old man, thrusting out his rugged hand and seizing the bronzed one of the youth. "Sit down, sir, sit down. Good Lord, how like!" he added, mentally. Then, seeing the young sailor still standing, blushing and hesitating, he struck his cane upon the floor and roared out: "Demmy, sit down, sir! When Ira Warfield says sit down, he means sit down!" "Ira Warfield!" exclaimed the young man, starting back in astonishment--one might almost say in consternation. "Ay, sir; Ira Warfield! That's my name. Never heard any ill of it, did you?"