“It’s a most interesting case,” cried Miss Winthrop; “and, if you wait till I fetch my camera, I’ll take your portrait together just as you are.” “Do,” said Mrs. Pepper cordially. “I won’t have my portrait took,” said the captain, with much acerbity. “Not if I wish it, dear?” inquired Mrs. Pepper tenderly. “Not if you keep a-wishing it all your life,” replied the captain sourly, making another attempt to get his head from her shoulder. “Don’t you think they ought to have their portrait taken now?” asked Miss Winthrop, turning to the ex-pilot. “I don’t see no ’arm in it,” said Pepper thoughtlessly. “You hear what Mr. Pepper says,” said the lady, turning to the captain again. “Surely if he doesn’t mind, you ought not to.” “I’ll talk to him by-and-bye,” said the captain, very grimly. “P’raps it would be better if we kept this affair to ourselves for the present,” said the ex-pilot, taking alarm at his friend’s manner. “Well, I won’t intrude on you any longer,” said Miss Winthrop. “Oh! Look there! How rude of them!” The others turned hastily in time to see several heads vanish from the window. Captain Crippen was the first to speak. “Jem!” said Mrs. Pepper severely, before he had finished. “Captain Budd!” said Miss Winthrop, flushing. The incensed captain rose to his feet and paced up and down the room. He looked at the ex-pilot, and that small schemer shivered. “Easy does it, cap’n,” he murmured, with a wink which he meant to be comforting. “I’m going out a little way,” said the captain, after the rector’s daughter had gone. “Just to cool my head.” Mrs. Pepper took her bonnet from its peg behind the door, and, surveying herself in the glass, tied it beneath her chin. “Alone,” said Crippen nervously. “I want to do a little thinking.” “Never again, Jem,” said Mrs. Pepper firmly. “My place is by your side. If you’re ashamed of people looking at you, I’m not. I’m proud of you. Come along. Come and show yourself, and tell them who you are. You shall never go out of my sight again as long as I live. Never.” She began to whimper. “What’s to be done?” inquired Crippen, turning desperately on the bewildered pilot. “What’s it got to do with him?” demanded Mrs. Pepper sharply. “He’s got to be considered a little, I s’pose,” said the captain, dissembling. “Besides, I think I’d better do like the man in the poetry did. Let me go away and die of a broken heart. Perhaps it’s best.” Mrs. Pepper looked at him with kindling eyes. “Let me go away and die of a broken heart,” repeated the captain, with real feeling. “I’d rather do it. I would indeed.” Mrs. Pepper, bursting into angry tears, flung her arms round his neck again, and sobbed on his shoulder. The pilot, obeying the frenzied injunctions of his friend’s eye, drew down the blind. “There’s quite a crowd outside,” he remarked. “I don’t mind,” said his wife amiably. “They’ll soon know who he is.”