but no one had ever proved it; in his many “yarns” at the village store, he had not even hinted at such a strait.  If Marjorie had not stood quite so much in fear of him she would have enjoyed his adventures; as it was she did enjoy with a feverish enjoyment the story of thirteen days in an open boat on the ocean.  His boys were fully aware that he had run away from home when he was fourteen, and had not returned for fourteen years, but they were not in the least inclined to follow his example.  Hollis’ brothers had all left home with the excuse that they could “better” themselves elsewhere; two were second mates on board large ships, Will and Harold, Sam was learning a trade in the nearest town, he was next to Hollis in age, and the eldest, Herbert, had married and was farming on shares within ten miles of his father’s farm.  But Captain Rheid held up his head, declaring that his boys were good boys, and had always obeyed him; if they had left him to farm his hundred and fifty acres alone, it was only because their tastes differed from his.  In her lonely old age, how his wife sighed for a daughter!—­a daughter that would stay at home and share her labors, and talk to her, and read to her on stormy Sundays, and see that her collar was on straight, and that her caps were made nice.  Some mothers had daughters, but she had never had much pleasure in her life!

“Like to come over to your grandfather’s, eh?” remarked Captain Rheid, looking around at the broad-brimmed hat among the full bags.

“Yes, sir,” said Marjorie, denting one of the full bags with her forefinger and wondering what he would do to her if she should make a hole in the bag, and let the contents out.

She rarely got beyond monosyllables with Hollis’ father.

“Your uncle James isn’t going to stay much longer, he tells me,”

“No, sir,” said Marjorie, obediently.

“Wife and children going back to Boston, too?”

“Yes, sir.”

Her forefinger was still making dents.

“Just come to board awhile, I suppose?”

“I thought they visited” said Marjorie.

“Visited?  Humph! Visit his poor old father with a wife and five children!”

Marjorie wanted to say that her grandfather wasn’t poor.

“Your grandfather’s place don’t bring in much, I reckon.”

“I don’t know,” Marjorie answered.

“How many acres?  Not more’n fifty, and some of that made land.  I remember when some of your grandfather’s land was water!  I don’t see what your uncle James had to settle down to business in Boston for—­that’s what comes of marrying a city girl!  Why didn’t he stay home and take care of his old father?”

Marjorie had nothing to say.  Hollis flushed uncomfortably.

“And your mother had to get married, too.  I’m glad I haven’t a daughter to run away and get married?”

“She didn’t run away,” Marjorie found voice to answer indignantly.