"Shave!" ejaculated the skipper, in choking accents. "Rub—! Coal-dust!"
"It's your only chance," said Miss Pilbeam.
Captain Bligh leaned back frowning, and from sheer force of habit passed the ends of his moustache slowly through his fingers. "I think the coal- dust would be enough," he said at last.
The girl shook her head. "Father particularly noticed your moustache," she said.
"Everybody does," said the skipper, with mournful pride. "I won't part with it."
"Not for my sake?" inquired Miss Pilbeam, eying him mournfully. "Not after all I've done for you?"
"No," said the other, stoutly.
Miss Pilbeam put her handkerchief to her eyes and, with a suspicious little sniff, hurried from the room. Captain Bligh, much affected, waited for a few seconds and then went in pursuit of her. Fifteen minutes later, shorn of his moustache, he stood in the coal-hole, sulkily smearing himself with coal.
"That's better," said the girl; "you look horrible."
She took up a handful of coal-dust and, ordering him to stoop, shampooed him with hearty good-will.