"And he'll probably be there to-morrow; he's getting sweet on that Betty child, Miss Mattie."
"Oh, dear, no," said the shocked Miss Matthews. "Why, he's in love with Diana Gregory."
The captain gazed at her blankly. "You don't mean it," he protested.
"Yes, I do," said Miss Matthews; "they've known each other all their lives. But she doesn't want to settle down."
"Well, she'd better look out," said the little captain; "men won't wait forever."
"Men like Anthony Blake," returned Miss Matthews with conviction, "will. And as for Bettina, she's nothing but a child!"
The little captain carried the conversation over, tactfully, to his favorite topic. "I want you and that Betty child to go with me for a day's fishin' soon," he said; "you just name the day."
Little Miss Matthews hated the sea, with the hatred of a woman whose ancestors had made their living on the Banks and had been drowned in storms. But she liked the captain. "I am sure you are very kind," she said, primly, "but it will have to be Saturday when there isn't any school."
"All right," said the captain,—"make it a week from Saturday, and we'll probably have clearing weather."
The doctor, going down, met little Miss Matthews. Bettina, leaning over the rail, greeted the little lady somewhat self-consciously. "I'll make your tea in a minute," she said; "the doctor didn't want any."