Billy was not gone long, and when he returned the two made ready the evening meal. They tried to be gay, but between the attempts at merriment each was watching the other. The sun went down behind the Hills and Davy's Light sprang to its duty on the Point. Billy got up stiffly, lighted the little glass lamp and set it upon the table amid the dishes of food from which neither he nor Janet had ravenously eaten. "We must rid up," said Billy, eyeing the disorder; "once yer done with food, 'tain't a pleasant sight hangin' around." When this was finished Janet drew her chair close. "Cap'n Daddy!" No longer could the girl hold herself in check. "Cap'n Daddy, I've got something to tell you!" Billy's heart smote him as he looked at the pretty head, bowed now upon the folded arms. He put out his rough hand and smoothed the ruddy hair. "Steady," he murmured, "'tain't no use t' lose heart, Janet. I done wrong not t' give ye a clearer chart t' sail by, but ye'll get int' smooth waters agin, please God!" How little he realized her true trouble! Janet tried to still her sobs, but they eased the strain and she sobbed on, while Billy made the most of the time to take up his neglected task. "It was just the kind of shoal yer little bark was like t' steer fur," he went on, never raising his hand from her dear head, "an' I oughter have told ye. I allus have thought that most of us would keep off rocks an' shoals if we knowed they was there. Janet, I've got t' tell ye somethin' 'bout yer mother! It oughter come to ye from a woman, God knows, but there ain't no likely woman t' hand, an' I must do my best. She, yer mother, was powerful 'fraid ye might wreck yerself on the same kind o' reef what she struck. She wanted ye should be a boy 'long o' that fear, but she 'lowed if ye were a girl, I was t' tell ye in time if I saw danger, an', Janet, I ain't done my duty!" Billy's voice was hoarse from intense feeling. "Cap'n Daddy!" Janet's voice shook with sobs. "Don't you blame yourself. You're the one perfect thing I have in my life. I know it now; I always knew it, and I never wanted to leave you." "Shuttin' yer eyes from danger ain't strength-givin', Janet; keep a watch out, an' be ready. That's what life means." His voice drew the girl from the shelter of her arms, she looked steadily at him through wet lashes. "Janet, yer mother sunk 'long o' lovin' a man--a man--well, like him--on the Hills!" "What!" The girl bent forward and the fire of her passion dried the tears from the troubled eyes. She would hold her news back. Billy had the right of way. "Yes, yes." Billy let go his grip of the present. He forgot the girl opposite, and her personal claim upon him. He was back in his own youth, and in arms to defend the one woman of his love, while of necessity he must use her against herself.