"How about _you_, Mike?" laughed Old Captain. "Aw, _I_ wouldn't sew. That's girls' work." The children had no sooner departed than Old Captain washed his hands and hurried into his coat. Feeling in his pocket to make sure that his money was there, he clambered up the steep bank, back of his queer house, to the road above. This was a pleasant road, because it curved obligingly to fit the shore line. The absence of a sidewalk did not distress Old Captain. Half an hour later, Jeanne's friend, having reached the business section of the town, peered eagerly in at the shop windows. There seemed to be everything else in them except the articles that he wanted. Presently, choosing the shop that had the _most_ windows, he started in, collided with a lady and a baby carriage and backed out again. He mopped his bald pink head several times with his faded red handkerchief before he felt sufficiently courageous to make a second attempt. Finally he got inside. "Tarnation!" he breathed. "This ain't no place for a man--I'm the only one!" A moment later, however, he caught sight of a male clerk and started for him almost on a run. He clutched him by the sleeve. "Say," said Old Captain, "gimme a girl-sized thimble, a spool o' thread to fit, and a whole package o' needles." "This young lady will attend to you," replied the man, heartlessly deserting him. The smiling young lady was evidently waiting for her unusual customer to speak, so the Captain spoke. "Will you kindly gimme a girl's-size needle, a spool o' thread, an' a package o' thimbles." "What!" exclaimed the surprised clerk. "A thimble, a needle, a thread!" shouted the desperate Captain. "What size needles?" "Why--about the size you'd use to sew a nice neat seam. Couldn't you mix up about a quarter's worth?" "They _come_ in assorted packets. What colored thread?" "Why--make it about six colors--just pick 'em out to suit yourself." "How about the thimble? Do you want it for yourself?" "No, it's for a girl." "About how big a girl?" "Well, she's some bigger 'round than a whitefish," said the Captain, a bit doubtfully, "but not so much bigger than a good-sized lake-trout. Say, how much _is_ them thimbles?" "Five cents apiece." "Gimme all the sizes you got. One of each. She might grow some, you know." "Anything else?" "Yep," returned Old Captain. "Suppose we match up them spools with some caliker--white with red spots, or blue, now. What do you say to _that_?" "Right this way, sir," said the clerk, gladly turning her back in order to permit the suppressed giggles that were choking her, to escape. The big Captain lumbered along in her wake, like a large scow towed by a small tug. He beamed in friendly fashion at the other customers; this dreaded shopping was proving less terrifying than he had feared. His pilot came to anchor near a table heaped with cheap print. "We're having a sale on these goods," said she. "What's the matter with 'em?" asked Old Captain, suspiciously.