“I shall try him for another vy’ge, George,” said the skipper. “It’s hard lines on a youngster if he don’t have a chance. I was never one to be severe. Live and let live, that’s my motto. Do as you’d be done by.” “You’re turning soft-’arted in your old age,” grumbled the mate. “Old age!” said the other, in a startled voice. “Old age! I’m not thirty-seven yet.” “You’re getting on,” said the mate; “besides, you look old.” The skipper investigated the charge in the cabin looking-glass ten minutes later. He twisted his beard in his hand and tried to imagine how he would look without it. As a compromise he went out and had it cut short and trimmed to a point. The glass smiled approval on his return; the mate smiled too, and, being caught in the act, said it made him look like his own grandson. It was late when the cook returned, but the skipper was on deck, and, stopping him for a match, entered into a little conversation. Mr. Jewell, surprised at first, soon became at his ease, and, the talk drifting in some unknown fashion to Miss Jewell, discussed her with brotherly frankness. “You spent the evening together, I s’pose?” said the skipper, carelessly. Mr. Jewell glanced at him from the corner of his eye. “Cooking,” he said, and put his hand over his mouth with some suddenness. By the time they parted the skipper had his hand in a friendly fashion on the cook’s shoulder, and was displaying an interest in his welfare as unusual as it was gratifying. So unaccustomed was Mr. Jewell to such consideration that he was fain to pause for a moment or two to regain control of his features before plunging into the lamp-lit fo’c’sle. [Illustration: “The mate smiled too.”] The mate made but a poor breakfast next morning, but his superior, who saw the hand of Miss Jewell in the muddy coffee and the cremated bacon, ate his with relish. He was looking forward to the evening, the cook having assured him that his sister had accepted his invitation to inspect the cabin, and indeed had talked of little else. The boy was set to work house-cleaning, and, having gleaned a few particulars, cursed the sex with painstaking thoroughness. It seemed to the skipper a favorable omen that Miss Jewell descended the companion-ladder as though to the manner born; and her exclamations of delight at the cabin completed his satisfaction. The cook, who had followed them below with some trepidation, became reassured, and seating himself on a locker joined modestly in the conversation. “It’s like a doll’s-house,” declared the girl, as she finished by examining the space-saving devices in the state-room. “Well, I mustn’t take up any more of your time.” “I’ve got nothing to do,” said the skipper, hastily. “I—I was thinking of going for a walk; but it’s lonely walking about by yourself.” Miss Jewell agreed. She lowered her eyes and looked under the lashes at the skipper. “I never had a sister,” continued the latter, in melancholy accents.