“Would telling him—protect her?” the missionary asked. Black Pawl laughed bitterly.
“I’ve taught him never a scruple in all the world,” he said. “And—for what this would mean to him—God knows!”
The old man said sternly: “Red Pawl is a charge upon your soul.”
“Aye,” said Black Pawl “And heavy there!”
They said no more of Red then. The missionary asked: “You told Ruth who you were?”
Black Pawl shook his head. “No, I told her nothing. What right have I to thrust such a father on the child?”
The man of the church smiled. “There’s no matter of thrusting,” he said. “You are her father; and—I know Ruth. She will want to know.” He got up and went purposefully toward the companion. Black Pawl came swiftly to his feet.
“No, Father!”
But the missionary was calling up to the deck, “Ruth!” She answered. “Will you come below?”
She came down the companion. The missionary took her by the hand. Black Pawl stood rigid by the table. She looked from one to the other.