“No doubt,” said the captain, dryly. “That’s why she went scurrying off as though she had got a train to catch, and he stood there all that time looking after her. And, besides, every time he sees me, in some odd fashion your name crops up.” “My name?” said the other, in surprise. “Your name,” repeated the captain, firmly, “Same as Joan’s, ain’t it? The after-part of it, anyway. That’s the attraction. Talk all round you—and I talk all round you, too. Nobody’d dream you’d got a daughter to hear the two of us talk—sometimes. Other times, if I bring her name in, they’d think you’d got nothing else.” Mr. Hartley glanced at him uneasily. “Perhaps—” he began. “There’s no ’perhaps’ about it,” said the masterful captain. “If you’re not very careful there’ll be trouble. You know what Mr. John is—he’s got big ideas, and the youngster is as obstinate as a mule.” “It’s all very well,” said Hartley, “but how can I be careful? What can I do? Besides, I dare say you are making mountains of mole-heaps; she probably hurried off thinking to catch me up.” Captain Trimblett gave a little dry cough. “Ask her,” he said, impressively. “I’m not going to put any such ideas into her head,” said his friend. “Sound her, then,” said the captain. “This is the way I look at it. We all think he is a very nice fellow, don’t we?” “He is,” said Hartley, decidedly. “And we all think she’s a splendid girl, don’t we?” continued the other. “Something of the sort,” said Hartley, smiling. “There you are, then,” said the captain, triumphantly. “What is more likely than that they should think the same of each other? Besides, I know what he thinks; I can read him like a book.” “You can’t read Joan, though,” said the other. “Why, she often puzzles me.” “I can try,” said the captain. “I haven’t known her all these years for nothing. Now, don’t tell her we saw her. You leave her to me—and listen.” “Better leave her alone,” said Hartley. The captain, who was deep in thought, waved the suggestion aside. He walked the remainder of the way in silence, and even after they were in the house was so absorbed in his self-appointed task, and so vague in his replies, that Joan, after offering him the proverbial penny for his thoughts, suggested to her father in a loud whisper that he had got something in mind. “Thinking of the ships he has lost,” she said, in a still louder whisper. The captain smiled and shook his head at her. “Couldn’t lose a ship if I tried,” he said, nudging Hartley to call his attention to what was to follow. “I was saying so to Mr. Robert only yesterday!”