'Will you, commander, and Miss Conway, give me the pleasure, the real pleasure—of your company at dinner at the "Faithful Heart"? Say six o'clock.'
The commander seemed to pause. The girl's eyes burnt upon him. He began a little awkwardly—
'As strangers, sir, we really have no claim.'
'Do not speak of me as a stranger, I beg,' said the captain.
The commander looked at his daughter, saw a quarrel in her fine eyes, sulkiness running into days, much discomfort to an elderly widower living with an only child, and so he whipped out—
'Be it so, captain. We will be with you at six o'clock.'
Shortly after this, Captain Jackman left the pretty little house, having stood a few minutes by Miss Conway's side, greatly admiring the spacious view from the lawn. The commander walked to the side of his daughter, who remained on the lawn, watching the departing figure of Captain Jackman.
'What do you think of him, father?' said she, laying her hand upon his square shoulder.
'Think! He is no introduction of yours that we should think,' cried the little seaman.