“‘What three shirts?’ ses the skipper, who was busy cutting buttons off.
“‘Why, yours,’ ses Mr. Jackson. ‘Let’s see who can make the best frock.’
“‘No, Mr. Jackson,’ ses the old man. ‘I’m sure you couldn’t make anything o’ them shirts. You’re not at all gifted that way. Besides, I want ’em.’
“‘Well, I wanted my dressing-gown, if you come to that,’ ses the mate, in a sulky voice.
“‘Well, what on earth did you give it to me for?’ ses the skipper. ‘I do wish you’d know your own mind, Mr. Jackson.’
“The mate didn’t say any more. He sat and watched the old man, as he threaded his needle and stitched the dressing-gown together down the front. It really didn’t look half bad when he’d finished it, and it was easy to see how pleased Miss Mallow was. She really looked quite fine in it, and with the blue guernsey she was wearing and a band made o’ silk handkerchiefs round her waist, I saw at once it was a case with the third officer.
“‘Now you look a bit more like the gal your father used to know,’ ses the skipper. ‘My finger’s a bit sore just at present, but by and by I’ll make you a bonnet.’
“‘I’d like to see it,’ ses the mate.
“‘It’s quite easy,’ ses the skipper. ‘I’ve seen my wife do ’em. She calls ’em tokes. You make the hull out o’ cardboard and spread your canvas on that.’
“That dress made a wonderful difference in the gal. Wonderful! She seemed to change all at once and become the lady altogether. She just ’ad that cabin at her beck and call; and as for me, she seemed to think I was there a puppose to wait on ’er.