Both he and the girl were listening with sympathizing but cautious interest to her father's contention with the boatman who had brought them from shore, and who was now inclined to demand an extra fee for returning with them. The boatman alleged that he had been detained beyond “kirk time,” and that this imperiling of his salvation could only be compensated by another shilling. To the consul's surprise, this extraordinary argument was recognized by the father, who, however, contented himself by simply contending that it had not been stipulated in the bargain. The issue was, therefore, limited, and the discussion progressed slowly and deliberately, with a certain calm dignity and argumentative satisfaction on both sides that exalted the subject, though it irritated the captain. “If ye accept the premisses that I've just laid down, that it's a contract”---began the boatman. “Dry up! and haul off,” said the captain. “One moment,” interposed the consul, with a rapid glance at the slight trouble in the young girl's face. Turning to the father, he went on: “Will you allow me to offer you and your daughter a seat in my boat?” It was an unlooked-for and tempting proposal. The boatman was lazily lying on his oars, secure in self-righteousness and the conscious possession of the only available boat to shore; on the other hand, the smart gig of the consul, with its four oars, was not only a providential escape from a difficulty, but even to some extent a quasi-official endorsement of his contention. Yet he hesitated. “It'll be costin' ye no more?” he said interrogatively, glancing at the consul's boat crew, “or ye'll be askin' me a fair proportion.” “It will be the gentleman's own boat,” said the girl, with a certain shy assurance, “and he'll be paying his boatmen by the day.” The consul hastened to explain that their passage would involve no additional expense to anybody, and added, tactfully, that he was glad to enable them to oppose extortion. “Ay, but it's a preencipel,” said the father proudly, “and I'm pleased, sir, to see ye recognize it.” He proceeded to help his daughter into the boat without any further leave-taking of the passenger, to the consul's great surprise, and with only a parting nod from the young girl. It was as if this momentous incident were a sufficient reason for the absence of any further trivial sentiment. Unfortunately the father chose to add an exordium for the benefit of the astonished boatsman still lying on his oars. “Let this be a lesson to ye, ma frien', when ye're ower sure! Ye'll ne'er say a herrin' is dry until it be reestit an' reekit.” “Ay,” said the boatman, with a lazy, significant glance at the consul, “it wull be a lesson to me not to trust to a lassie's GANGIN' jo, when thair's anither yin comin'.” “Give way,” said the consul sharply.