“I guess not,” regarding her fondly. “Anyhow, I shan't try to keep this one. Well, this time to-morrow you'll be back at college again, in among all those Greek and Latin folks. Wonder she'll condescend to come and talk plain United States to us Cape Codders, ain't it, John.”
John Doane admitted that it was a wonder. He seemed to regard Miss Dott as a very wonderful young person altogether. Gertrude glanced up at him, then at her father, and then at the blotter on the desk. She absently played with the pages of the ledger.
“Dad,” she said, suddenly, “you are not the only one who has a secret.”
The captain turned and looked at her. Her head was bent over the ledger and he could see but the top of a very becoming hat, a stray lock of wavy brown hair, and the curve of a very pretty cheek. The cheek—what he could see of it—was crimson. He looked up at Mr. Doane. That young man's face was crimson also.
“Oh!” said Captain Daniel; and added, “I want to know!”
“Yes, you're not the only one. We—I—there is another secret. Daddy, dear, John wants to talk with you.”
The captain looked at Mr. Doane, then at the hat and the face beneath it.
“Oh!” he said, again.
“Yes. I—I—” She rose and, putting her arms about her father's neck, kissed him. “I will be back before long, dear,” she whispered, and hurried out. Mr. Doane cleared his throat. Captain Dan waited.
“Well, sir,” began the young man, and stopped. The captain continued to wait.