And so on. The yarns were not elegant, but, as he told them, they were funny. Mabel Colton laughed as heartily as the rest of us. She appeared to be in fine spirits. She talked with the Atwoods, answered their questions, and ate the hot “spider bread” and butter as if she had never tasted anything as good. But with me she would not talk. Whenever I addressed a remark to her, she turned it with a laugh and her next speech was pretty certain to be addressed to the lightkeeper or his wife. As for our adventure in the launch, that she treated as a joke. “Wan't you awful scared when that squall struck so sudden?” inquired Mrs. Atwood. “Dreadfully.” “Humph!” this from Joshua; “I cal'late Mr. Paine was some scart too. What did you do, Mr. Paine?” “I rigged that canvas on the oar as soon as possible,” I answered. “Um-hm. That was good judgment.” “Tell me, Mr. Atwood,” asked the young lady innocently, “are all seafaring men very dictatorial under such circumstances?” “Very--which?” “I mean do they order people about and make them do all sorts of things, whether they wish to or not?” “Sartin. Godfreys! I never asked nobody what they wished aboard the Ezry H. Jones.” “And do they tell them to 'sit down and keep still'?” “Gen'rally they tell 'em to get up and keep movin'. If they don't they start 'em pretty lively--with a rope's end.” “I see. Even when they are--ladies?” “Ladies? Godfreys! we never had but one woman aboard the Ezry. Had the skipper's wife one v'yage, but nobody ever ordered her around any to speak of. She was six feet tall and weighed two hundred. All hands was scart to death of her.” “Suppose she had been ordered to 'sit down and keep still'; what do you think would have happened?” “Don't know. If 'twas one of the hands I guess likely she'd have hove him overboard. If 'twas the skipper I shouldn't wonder if she'd have knocked him down--after she got over the surprise of his darin' to do such, a thing. She had HIM trained, I tell ye!” “Miss Colton thinks me rather a bully, I am afraid,” I said. “I did order her about rather roughly.” Mr. Atwood burst into a laugh. “That Ezry Jones woman was the skipper's wife,” he declared. “Makes a lot of diff'rence, that does. I was considerable of a bully myself afore Betsy got me on the parson's books. Now I'm the most peaceable critter ever you see. Your turn's comin', Miss Colton. All you got to do is be patient.” “Joshua!” said Mrs. Atwood, in mild reproof. “You mustn't mind his talk, Miss Colton. He's a terrible joker.” Miss Colton changed the subject. She did not so much as look at me again during the meal and, after it was over, she went to her room, explaining that she was very tired and would try to get a little sleep.