won't talk and she hasn't smiled once. Daniel, has she said anything to you? Do you know what ails her?"
The captain shook his head.
"She and I had a little talk out in the store," he admitted. "I shouldn't wonder if she was thinkin' about--about--"
"About John, do you mean?"
"Maybe so."
"Did she talk with you about HIM? She won't let me mention his name. Daniel, I feel SO bad about that. I'm afraid I was to blame, somehow. If we hadn't gone to Scarford--if ... Daniel, I'm going to her."
She rose. Her husband laid a hand on her arm.
"Sit down, Serena," he urged. "Sit down."
"But, Daniel, let me go. I must go to her. The poor girl! Perhaps I can comfort her, though how, I don't know. John Doane!" with a burst of indignation. "If I ever meet that young man I'll give him my opinion of his--"
"Sshh! shh! Serena! You sit down and finish your luncheon. Don't you worry about Gertie. And you needn't worry about her appetite or mine. I tell you what I'll do: If she and I don't have appetite enough for dinner to-night--or breakfast to-morrow mornin', anyhow--I'll swallow that platter whole. There! A sight like that ought to be worth waitin' for. Cheer up, old lady, and possess your soul in patience. This craft is just gettin' out of the doldrums. There's a fair wind and clear weather comin' for the Dott frigate, or I'm no sailor. You just trust me and wait. Yes, and let Gertie alone."
He positively refused to explain what he meant by this optimistic prophecy, or to permit his wife to go to their daughter. Gertrude went out soon afterward--for another walk, she said--and Serena retired to her room for the afternoon nap which the doctor had prescribed as part of her rest cure. For a time she could not sleep, but lay there wondering and speculating concerning her husband's strange words and his equally strange attitude of confident and excited happiness. What did it mean? There was some secret she was sure; some good news for Gertrude; there must be. She, too, began to share the excitement and feel the confidence. Daniel had asked her to trust him, and she did trust him. He, and not she, had been right in judging Mrs. Black and Cousin Percy, and Scarford, and all the rest. He had been right all through. She had reason to trust him; he was always right. With this comforting conclusion--one indication of the mental revolution which her Scarford experience had brought about--she ceased wondering and dropped to sleep.
Captain Dan and Azuba had a short conference in the kitchen.
"Understand, do you, Zuba?" queried the captain. "A late dinner and plenty of it."
"I understand. Land sakes! I ain't altogether a numskull or a young-one, even if I do have to be shut up in the closet to make me behave."
"Ho! ho! I expect you could have knocked my head off for bein' in the way just at that time."
"Humph!" with a one-sided smile, "I could have knocked my own off for not listenin' afore I come downstairs. If I'd heard Laban's voice I bet you I wouldn't have come. All I needed was a chance to be alone with him and explain what Gertie and I were up to."
"Well, I'm glad you didn't have the chance. I wouldn't have missed that show for somethin'. It beat all my goin' to sea, that did. How you did holler!"
He roared with laughter. Azuba watched him with growing impatience.
"Got through actin' like a Bedlamite?" she inquired tartly, when he stopped for breath. "If you have you can clear out and let me get to my dish-washin'."
"I'm through. Oh, by the way, what did Labe say in your letter? I've told you what he wrote me, but I forgot that he wrote you, too."
Mrs. Ginn looked troubled. "I don't know what to do with that man," she declared. "I expect any minute to get word that he's been put in the lock-up. If that house of yours ain't rented or sold pretty quick, so he can get to sea again, he will be. Do you know what he's done to that Hungerford critter?"
"DONE to him! What do you mean? He hasn't seen him, has he?"
"No, he ain't seen him, thank goodness, but Labe is so wrought up over what that Hapgood thief told him, about your precious cousin stealin' your telegrams and so on, that he and Hapgood have gone in cahoots to play a trick on Mr. Percy. Labe says Hapgood told him that Percy was keepin' company now with another woman there in Scarford, a young woman with money, of course--he wouldn't chase any other kind. Well, Hapgood--he's a healthy specimen for my husband to be in with, he is--Hapgood knows a lot about Hungerford and his goin's on in the past, and he's got a lot of the Percy man's old letters from other girls. Don't ask ME how he got 'em; stole 'em, I suppose, same as he stole that telegram from John. Anyhow, Labe and Hapgood have sent those letters to the present young woman's pa."
Daniel whistled. "Whew!" he exclaimed. "That's interestin'."
"Ain't it, now! Laban says the old commodore--meanin' the pa, I suppose--is a holy terror and sets more store by his daughter than he does by his hopes of salvation, enough sight. Good reason, too, I presume likely; he's toler'ble sure of the daughter. Well, anyhow, the letters are gone and Labe says he's willin' to bet that Cousin Percy'll be GOIN'--out of the window and out of Scarford--when papa gets after him. Nice mess, ain't it!"
Captain Dan whistled again. "Well, Zuba," he observed, "we can't help it, as I see. What's done's done and chickens do come home to roost, don't they?"
"Humph! I wish my husband would come home and roost where I can keep my eye on him. He says he's gettin' sick of bein' a land lubber. He'll be aboard some ship and off again afore long, that's some comfort. The only time I know that man is safe is when he's a thousand miles from dry land."
CHAPTER XVI
Serena and Daniel were together in the parlor. It was past dinner time, but Azuba, for some reason or other, had not gotten dinner ready. This was unusual for, if there was one thing upon which the housekeeper prided herself, it was in being "prompt at meal times." She was setting the table now, however, and they could hear her rattling the knives and forks and singing, actually singing.
"Azuba is in good spirits, isn't she," observed Serena. "I haven't heard her sing before for a long time. I suppose, like the rest of us, she has been too troubled to sing."
Captain Dan listened to the singing, shook his head, and remarked whimsically, "There's some comfort to be got out of trouble, then. Say, the 'Sweet By and By' would turn sour if it could hear her sing about it, wouldn't it?"
"Hush, Daniel, don't be irreverent. Why don't you light the lamp, or let me light it? It's getting so dark I can hardly see you."
"Never mind; let's sit in the dark a spell. Gertie comin' down pretty soon, is she?"
"Yes. She's changing her dress, because you asked her to. Why did you ask her? Why should she dress up just for you and me?"
"Oh, just a notion of mine. I like that red dress of hers, anyway; the one with the fringe trimmin's along the upper riggin'."
"That dress isn't red, it's pink."
"I don't care. I thought 'twas about the color of my nose, and if that's pink then I'm losin' my complexion."
"Daniel!" with a laugh, "how you do talk and act to-day! At luncheon you were as queer as could be and now you're worse. I never saw you so fidgety and excited. What IS going to happen? Something, I know. You wouldn't tell me this noon; will you tell me now?"
"Pretty soon, Serena; pretty soon. Now let's talk about somethin' interestin'; about ourselves, for instance. How do you like bein' back here in Trumet? Ain't gettin' tired of it, are you? The old town doesn't seem stupid; hey?"
"No, indeed! Don't speak that way, Daniel."
"Well, I just mentioned it, that's all. Soon as you do get tired and want to see somethin' new, we'll take that cruise