"David," he explained, viewing his friend through a fog of thick, blue smoke, "I want that ye should take my girl! Once Janet is here, she'll be mighty spry 'bout gettin' in t' somethin'. I don't want her t' take t' washin' or servin' strangers, 'less she wants t', but when 'sperience _an'_ money is floatin' loose, my girl ought t' be out with her net." "Course!" nodded David; "an' Janet's a rare fisher fur these new waters." "Ye'll keep yer eye on her, David--knowin' all ye do?" The furrows deepened on Billy's brow. David took his pipe from his mouth. "God's my witness! I will that!" he said. Thus things stood while Janet, coiled in the meshes, lay laughing up at Billy. "What do you think of your haul, Cap'n Billy Daddy?" The man sighed. "You wouldn't let those dreadful old sharks--they _are_ sharks, Cap'n--you wouldn't let them hurt your poor little fish, now would you?" The rippling, girlish laugh jarred Billy's nerves. He must take a new tack. "See here, Janet, do ye mind this? Ye ain't jes' _my_ child--Lord knows ye ain't--yer hers!" "Hers?" "Yes." "Ah! you mean my mother." The net lay quite still. Having no memory of the mother, Janet was not deeply impressed. "I know, Cap'n; when you are in a difficulty you always bring--'her'--in,--what she would like, and what she wouldn't. It's my belief, Cap'n, she'd have done and thought exactly as we told her to." "'T ain't so, nuther! She had heaps of common sense, an' as she got near port, she saw turrible clear, an' she talked considerable 'bout larnin', an' how it could steer yer craft better than anythin' else; an' she 'lowed if ye was gal or lad, after ye got larnin', she wanted ye should go out int' the world an' test it. She wasn't over sot 'bout the Station. She'd visited other places." Janet sat up, and idly draped the net about her. "I suppose if my mother had lived," she said, "I would have listened to her--some. But, Cap'n Daddy, I reckon she would have gone off _with_ me. Like as not we would have taken boarders, but, don't you see, Cap'n, I would have had her?" "True; an' it's that what's held my hand many's the time. Yer not havin' her has crippled us both. But a summer on the mainland ain't a-goin' t' swamp us, Janet. With the _Comrade_ tied to David's wharf, an' me here, what's goin' t' happen to a--a girl like you?" Janet looked across the summer sea. "What? Sure enough, Cap'n Daddy, just what? And I ought to be earning my keep." "I'm goin' t' set ye up with some gal fixin's what I've saved fur ye. Yer mother's things! Ye ain't never seen them. S'pose we take a look now. A summer, with runnin's over t' the Station, will be real interestin', Janet. An' ye must tell me everythin'. There ain't no reason why ye shouldn't sail over every little while, but I do hope ye'll make yerself useful somehow. It will help bime by. An' I'm gettin' stiff." He arose awkwardly and strode toward the tiny house. Janet followed, trailing her fish net robe and humming lightly.