"Did he say anything about his income tax?" asked Helen, but for an answer the jaunt up the fog-laden boardwalk was undertaken, and only those who have ever indulged in real mid-summer fogs, could really appreciate description, and such do not need it—they know!
Captain Dave was glad to see the girls. He lighted the big oil lamp and even offered to burn papers in the stove to "kill the chill," but the girls insisted they would be perfectly comfortable without the heat.
"And Captain Dave, do you know about Kitty?" Grace plunged quickly as politeness would permit.
"Know Kitty? Well, I should, seein' as how I unclasped her from her dead mother's arms," replied the seaman, almost reverently.
"Then, Captain," this very gently from Louise, "why don't you do something for the child? She runs wild as an Indian."
"Do something for her," and he dumped out a pipe full of good tobacco. "Why, what could I do?"
"Does any one take care of her? Has she any friends?" inquired Helen kindly.
"Too many. That's just the trouble," and he filled his pipe with new tobacco. "You know that nobody's business is everybody's business, and that's what's the matter with poor little Kitty."
The girls did not quite understand the description, but the captain seemed troubled, so they hesitated about pressing more pointed questions.
"She is not half as wild as she seems," said Julia after a time. "We had quite a jolly little chat with her one day."