before she spoke. When she did reply her face was turned away from her companion.
"I should think that question might best be decided by comparing the salaries and prospects of the two positions," she said quietly.
"The two positions are much alike in one way. You know what the life at the station means the greater portion of the year--no companions of your own age and condition, no society, no amusements. The Western offer means all this and worse, for the situation is the same all the year. I say these things because I hope you may be willing to consider them, not from my point of view solely, but from yours."
"From mine?"
"Yes. You see I am recklessly daring to hope that, whichever lot is chosen, you may be willing to share it with me--as my wife. Elsie, do you think you could consider the question from that viewpoint?"
And--well--Elsie thought she could.
The consideration--we suppose it was the consideration--took so long that it was nearly dark when Elsie announced that she simply MUST go. It was Ralph's duty as a gentleman to help her in putting on her coat, and this took an astonishingly long time. Finally it was done, however, and they came downstairs.
"Dearest," said Ralph, after the door was locked, "I forgot to have another hunt for whatever it was that Captain Eri wanted me to get."
Elsie smiled rather oddly.
"Are you sure you haven't got it?" she asked demurely.
"Got it! Why--why, by George, what a numbskull I am! The old rascal! I thought there was a twinkle in his eye."
"He said he should come back after me."
"Well, well! Bless his heart, it's sound and sweet all the way through. Yes, I HAVE got it, and, what's more, I shall tell him that I mean to keep it."
The gold watches from the people to the heroes of the Orham wreck having been duly bought and inscribed and the medals struck, there came up the question of presentation, and it was decided to perform the ceremony in the Orham town hall, and to make the occasion notable. The Congressman from the district agreed to make the necessary speech. The Harniss Cornet Band was to furnish music. All preparations were made, and it remained only to secure the consent of the parties most interested, namely, Captain Eri and Luther Davis.
And this was the hardest task of all. Both men at first flatly refused to be present. The Captain said he might as well go to the dime museum and be done with it; he was much obliged to the Boston folks, but his own watch was keeping good time, and he didn't need a new one badly enough to make a show of himself to get it. Captain Davis said very much the same.
But Miss Patience was proud of her brother's rise to fame, and didn't intend to let him forfeit the crowning glory. She enlisted Captain Perez as a supporter, and together they finally got Luther's unwilling consent to sit on the platform and be stared at for one evening. Meanwhile, Captain Jerry, Elsie, Ralph, and Mrs. Snow were doing their best to win Captain Eri over. When Luther surrendered, the forces joined, and the Captain threw up his hands.
"All right," he said. "Only I ought to beg that dime museum feller's pardon. 'Tain't right to be partial this way."
The hall was jammed to the doors. Captain Eri, seated on the platform at one end of the half-circle of selectmen, local politicians, and minor celebrities, looked from the Congressman in the middle to Luther on the other end, and then out over the crowded settees. He saw Mrs. Snow's pleasant, wholesome face beaming proudly beside Captain Jerry's red one. He saw Captain Perez and Miss Patience sitting together close to the front, and Ralph and Elsie a little further back. The Reverend Mr. Perley was there; so were the Smalls and Miss Abigail Mullett. Melissa Busteed was on the very front bench with the boys, of whom Josiah was one. The "train committee" was there--not a member missing--and at the rear of the hall, smiling and unctuous as ever, was "Web" Saunders. In spite of his stage fright the Captain grinned when he saw "Web."
Mr. Solomon Bangs, his shirt-bosom crackling with importance, introduced the Congressman. The latter's address was, so the Item said, "a triumph of oratorical effort." It really was a good speech, and when it touched upon the simple sacrifice of the men who had given up their lives in the course of what, to them, was everyday work, there were stifled sobs all through the hall. Luther Davis, during this portion of the address, sat with his big hand shading his eyes. Later on, when the speaker was sounding the praises of the man who "alone, forgetful of himself, braved the sea and the storm to save his friends," those who looked at Captain Eri saw his chair hitched back, inch by inch, until, as the final outburst came, little more than his Sunday shoes was in sight. He had retired, chair and all, to the wings.
But they called him to the platform again and, amid--we quote from the Item once more--"a hurricane of applause," the two heroes were adorned with the watches and the medals.
There was a sort of impromptu reception after the ceremony, when Captain Eri, with Mrs. Snow on his arm, struggled through the crowd toward the door.
"'Twas great, shipmate, and you deserved it!" declared magnanimous Captain Jerry, wringing his hand.
"'Tain't ha'f what you ought to have, Eri," said Captain Perez.
"I haven't said much to thank you for savin' Luther," whispered Miss Patience, "but I hope you know that we both appreciate what you done and never 'll forgit it."
Ralph and Elsie also shook hands with him, and said some pleasant things. So did many others, Dr. Palmer among the number. Altogether, the journey through the hall was a sort of triumphal progress.
"Whew!" gasped the Captain, as they came out into the clear air and the moonlight, "let's hope that's the last of the dime-show bus'ness."
"Eri," whispered Mrs. Snow, "I'm so proud of you, I don't know what to do."
And that remark was sweeter to the Captain's ears than all those that had preceded it.
They turned into the shore road and were alone. It was a clear winter night, fresh, white snow on the ground, not a breath of wind, and the full moon painting land and sea dark blue and silver white. The surf sounded faint and far off. Somewhere in the distance a dog was barking, and through the stillness came an occasional laugh or shout from the people going home from the hall.
"Lots of things can happen in a few months, can't they?" said Mrs. Snow, glancing at the black shadow of the shuttered Baxter homestead.
"They can so," replied the Captain. "Think what's happened sence last September. I didn't know you then, and now it seems 's if I'd always known you. John was alive then, and Elsie nor Ralph hadn't come. Perez hadn't met Pashy neither. My! my! Everybody's choosed partners but Jerry," he chuckled, "and Jerry looked the most likely candidate 'long at the beginnin'. I'm glad," he added, "that Ralph's made up his mind to stay here. We shan't lose him nor Elsie for a few years, anyhow."
They paused at the knoll by the gate.
"Fair day to-morrer," observed the Captain, looking up at the sky.
"I hope it 'll be fair weather for us the rest of our days," said Mrs. Snow.
"You've HAD it rough enough, that's sure. Well, I hope you'll have a smooth v'yage, now."
The lady from Nantucket looked up into his face with a happy laugh.
"I guess I shall," she said. "I know I've got a good pilot."
CAP'N WARREN'S WARDS
By Joseph C. Lincoln
CAP'N WARREN'S WARDS
CHAPTER I
"Ostable!" screamed the brakeman, opening the car door and yelling his loudest, so as to be heard above the rattle of the train and the shriek of the wind; "Ostable!"
The