Poor Albert looked and felt anything but glad just then. Captain Zelotes, his hands in his pockets, stood regarding him. He, too, did not look particularly happy. “You'll remember,” he observed, “or perhaps you don't know, that when your father asked us to look out for you--” Albert interrupted. “Did--did father ask you to take care of me?” he cried, in surprise. “Um-hm. He asked somebody who was with him to ask us to do just that.” The boy drew a long breath. “Well, then,” he said, hopelessly, “I'll--I'll try.” “Thanks. Now you run around town and see the sights. Dinner's at half past twelve prompt, so be on hand for that.” After his grandson had gone, the captain, hands still in his pockets, stood for some time looking out of the window. At length he spoke aloud. “A play actor or a poetry writer!” he exclaimed. “Tut, tut, tut! No use talkin', blood will tell!” Issachar, who was putting coal on the office fire, turned his head. “Eh?” he queried. “Nothin',” said Captain Lote. He would have been surprised if he could have seen his grandson just at that moment. Albert, on the beach whither he had strayed in his desire to be alone, safely hidden from observation behind a sand dune, was lying with his head upon his arms and sobbing bitterly. A disinterested person might have decided that the interview which had just taken place and which Captain Zelotes hopefully told his wife that morning would probably result in “a clear, comf'table understandin' between the boy and me”--such a disinterested person might have decided that it had resulted in exactly the opposite. In calculating the results to be obtained from that interview the captain had not taken into consideration two elements, one his own and the other his grandson's. These elements were prejudice and temperament. CHAPTER IV