The other eyed him in consternation, and his manner changed.

“Don’t play the fool, Ted,” he said, not unkindly; “you know what Loo is.”

“Well, I’m reckoning on that,” said the mate, deliberately.  “I’m going for’ard; don’t let me interrupt you two.  So long.”

He went slowly forward, and lighting his pipe, sprawled carelessly on the deck, and renounced the entire sex forthwith.  At teatime the skipper attempted to reverse the procedure at the other meals; but as Miss Harris steadfastly declined to sit at the same table as the mate, his good intentions came to naught.

He made an appeal to what he termed the mate’s better nature, after Miss Harris had retired to the seclusion of her bed-chamber, but in vain.

“She’s nothing to do with me,” declared the mate, majestically.  “I wash my hands of her.  She’s a flirt.  I’m like Louisa, I can’t bear flirts.”

The skipper said no more, but his face was so worn that Miss Harris, when she came on deck in the early morning and found the barge gliding gently between the grassy banks of a river, attributed it to the difficulty of navigating so large a craft on so small and winding a stream.

“We shall be alongside in ’arf an hour,” said the skipper, eyeing her.

Miss Harris expressed her gratification.

“P’raps you wouldn’t mind going down the fo’c’sle and staying there till we’ve made fast,” said the other.  “I’d take it as a favour.  My owners don’t like me to carry passengers.”

Miss Harris, who understood perfectly, said, “Certainly,” and with a cold stare at the mate, who was at no pains to conceal his amusement, went below at once, thoughtfully closing the scuttle after her.

“There’s no call to make mischief, Ted,” said the skipper, somewhat anxiously, as they swept round the last bend and came into view of Coalsham.

The mate said nothing, but stood by to take in sail as they ran swiftly toward the little quay.  The pace slackened, and the Arabella, as though conscious of the contraband in her forecastle, crept slowly to where a stout, middle-aged woman, who bore a strong likeness to the mate, stood upon the quay.

“There’s poor Loo,” said the mate, with a sigh.

The skipper made no reply to this infernal insinuation.  The barge ran alongside the quay and made fast.

“I thought you’d be up,” said Mrs. Gibbs to her husband.  “Now come along to breakfast; Ted ’ll follow on.”

Captain Gibbs, dived down below for his coat, and slipping ashore, thankfully prepared to move off with his wife.

“Come on as soon as you can, Ted,” said the latter.  “Why, what on earth is he making that face for?”

She turned in amazement as her brother, making a pretence of catching her husband’s eye, screwed his face up into a note of interrogation and gave a slight jerk with his thumb.

“Come along,” said Captain Gibbs, taking her arm with much affection.