“Old man Robinson, who I judged was in the settin' room, snarled out somethin' which wa'n't no compliment to the stars. Then he ordered her to come in afore she catched cold. She sighed and obeyed orders, shuttin' the door astern of her. Next thing I knew that literary tenor grabbed my arm--'twa'n't no canary-bird grip, neither. “'Who was that?' he whispers, eager. “I told him. 'That's the name they give,' says I, 'but we have doubts about its bein' the real one. You see, there's some mystery about them Robinsons, and--' “'I'll take that waiter's place,' he says, quick. 'Shall I go right in and begin now? Don't stop to argue, man; I say I'll take it.' “And he did take it by main strength, pretty nigh. Every time I'd open my mouth he'd shut it up, and at last I give in, and showed him where he could sleep. “'You turn out at five sharp,' I told him. 'And you needn't bother to write no poems while you're dressin', neither.' “'Good night,' he answers, brisk. 'Go, will you, please? I want to think.' “I went. 'Tain't until an hour later that I remembered he hadn't asked one word concernin' the wages. And next mornin' he comes to me and suggests that perhaps 'twould be as well if I didn't tell his real name. He was pretty sure he'd been away schoolin' so long that he wouldn't be recognized. 'And incognitos seem to be fashionable here,' he purrs, soft and gentle. “I wouldn't know an incognito if I stepped on one, but the tenor voice of him kind of made me sick. “'All right,' I snaps, sarcastic. 'Suppose I call you “Willie.” How'll that do?' “'Do as well as anything, I guess,' he says. Didn't make no odds to him. If I'd have called him 'Maud,' he'd have been satisfied. “He waited in Annex Number Two, which was skippered by Cap'n Jonadab. And, for a poet, he done pretty well, so the Cap'n said. “'But say, Barzilla,' asks Jonadab, 'does that Willie thing know the Robinsons?' “'Guess not,' I says. But, thinkin' of the way he'd acted when the girl come to the door: 'Why?' “'Oh, nothin' much. Only when he come in with the doughnuts the fust mornin' at breakfast, I thought Grace sort of jumped and looked funny. Anyhow, she didn't eat nothin' after that. P'r'aps that was on account of her bein' out sailin' the day afore, though.' “I said I cal'lated that was it, but all the same I was interested. And when, a day or so later, I see Grace and Willie talkin' together earnest, out back of the kitchen, I was more so. But I never said nothin'. I've been seafarin' long enough to know when to keep my main hatch closed.