“How are you, Henry? Glad to see you. You haven't been around much lately.” “No, too busy.” “On your way up-town?” “No, just been. I ran out of tobacco and went up to get some. I generally live on the schooner, you know. I have no other place to go to. That's the devil of it, Cap'n, when you get to be my age without a home or a near relation. There isn't a soul that cares anything about me.” “I guess you need some supper. Come in with us, 'tain't all cold yet.” “That wouldn't help any. I've had enough to eat.” “What do you mean by talking about your age? You're young yet.” “Do you call forty-five young?” “What do you think of me? I'm most sixty.” “That's another story. When you go, you 'll leave something behind to show that your life was worth living.” “I wasn't much younger than you when I married.” “None o' that for me,” said Henry, with a sort of smile. “I never was minded to it. If you have seen anything worth while about living, you're lucky. I never could.” “Look here, Henry, I don't like to hear you talking that way. What's the matter with you?” Another questionable smile. “I 'll tell you how it looks to me. We have to live with a pack of rascals, and heaven help the fools!” “Henry, you're enough to give a man the blues.” “I've had enough to-day to give 'em to me. To tell the truth, Cap'n, I don't know what to make of Dick. I'm afraid he is one of the fools.” “There isn't anything serious the matter, is there?” This was said nervously. “He's young, and independent. He has no idea of easing off his own notions so as to keep things running smooth with other people. I've done everything a man could to help him get on, but it's no use; he antagonizes the only people who can help him. He's bristling all the time. A couple of weeks ago he just naturally got sick of his mate and fired him. I smoothed things over and got the Cap'n to suggest another. And now he's fired this one, and won't have him on his schooner at all,--and I've had to take him in for the night.” “Wasn't there any reason?” “Reason--yes. I know he means to tell the whole story, but he has no idea how hasty he is sometimes. McGlory's so ugly I could hardly trust my own self with him. I thought the best thing would be to walk off for a while, and maybe we'd both cool off.” “Dick's all right, though, isn't he? No--no trouble, or anything?” “Why? Been hearing anything?” “I--I've thought he wasn't quite himself lately.” “Why did you think that?” “Oh, I couldn't say, exactly.” “Why, no, I don't think he's in any trouble.” Henry smiled again. “I suppose you know as much as I do what's bothering him.” “No. What is it?” “Well now, see here, if it's that way, I oughtn't to say anything. But you don't quite follow. Surely, you know. Just about the little girl.” “My Annie?” “Yes. Of course we all know how Dick feels there.” “Well, I've thought of it, of course.”