The impressiveness of the captain’s gaze was wasted in the darkness.  For a moment he hesitated, and then, with the dignity of a man whose spelling has nothing to conceal, struck a match and lit the lamp.  The lamp lighted, he lowered the blind, and then seating himself by the window turned with a majestic air to a thin slip of a girl with tow-coloured hair, who stood by the door.

“Who are you?” he demanded, gruffly.

“My name’s Vickers,” said the young lady.  “Selina Vickers.  I heard all what you’ve been saying to my Joseph, but, thank goodness, I can take my own part.  I don’t want nobody to fight my battles for me.  If you’ve got anything to say about my voice you can say it to my face.”

[Illustration:  “Selina Vickers.”]

Captain Bowers sat back and regarded her with impressive dignity.  Miss Vickers met his gaze calmly and, with a pair of unwinking green eyes, stared him down.

“What were you doing in my pantry?” demanded the captain, at last.

“I was in your kitchen,” replied Miss Vickers, with scornful emphasis on the last word,” to see my young man.”

“Well, I can’t have you there,” said the captain, with a mildness that

surprised himself.  “One of my rules—­”

Miss Vickers interposed.  “I’ve read’em all over and over again,” she said, impatiently.

“If it occurs again,” said the other, “I shall have to speak to Joseph very seriously about it.”

“Talk to me,” said Miss Vickers, sharply; “that’s what I come in for.  I can talk to you better than what Joseph can, I know.

What harm do you think I was doing your old kitchen?  Don’t you try and interfere between me and my Joseph, because I won’t have it.  You’re not married yourself, and you don’t want other people to be.  How do you suppose the world would get on if everybody was like you?”

Captain Bowers regarded her in open-eyed perplexity.  The door leading to the garden had just closed behind the valiant Joseph, and he stared with growing uneasiness at the slight figure of Miss Vickers as it stood poised for further oratorical efforts.  Before he could speak she gave her lips a rapid lick and started again.

“You’re one of those people that don’t like to see others happy, that’s what you are,” she said, rapidly.  “I wasn’t hurting your kitchen, and as to talking and laughing there—­what do you think my tongue was given to me for?  Show?  P’r’aps if you’d been doing a day’s hard work you’d—­”

“Look here, my girl—­” began the captain, desperately.

“Don’t you my girl me, please,” interrupted Miss Vickers.  “I’m not your girl, thank goodness.  If I was you’d be a bit different, I can tell you.  If you had any girls you’d know better than to try and come between them and their young men.  Besides, they wouldn’t let you.  When a girl’s got a young man—­”

The captain rose and went through the form of ringing the bell.  Miss Vickers watched him calmly.