The skipper looked out of the window and saw the unhappy victim of Captain Zingall slowly approaching. His wife drew him away, and, despite his remonstrances, pushed him into the next room and closed the door.
She sat on the sofa calmly sewing, as the mate, whose hardihood was rapidly failing him, entered. Her manner gave him no assistance whatever, and coming sheepishly in he took a chair.
“I’ve come home,” he said at last
“So I see, Ben,” said Mrs. Bradd, calmly.
“He’s told her,” said the mate to himself.
“Children all right?” he inquired, after another pause.
“Yes,” said Mrs. Bradd, simply. “Little Joe’s boots are almost off his feet, though.”
“Ah,” said the mate, blankly.
“I’ve been waiting for you to come, Ben,” said Mrs. Bradd after a pause. “I want you to change a five-pound note Uncle Dick gave me.”
“Can’t do it,” said the mate, briefly. The absence of Captain Bradd was disquieting to a bashful man in such a position, and he had looked forward to a stormy scene which was to bring him to his senses again.