“I am very glad to meet you, Captain,” she began, “You have a boat of your very own, so I understand.  You will take me for a trip on the river some day, will you not?  I have always longed for a sail in a wood-boat.”

“Sure, sure, Miss, I’ll take ye,” the captain replied, much delighted at her action.  “But mebbe ye’d better ask me wife.  She’s mighty pertic’ler who I take sailin’, ’specially when it comes to women.”

“Oh, I am sure Mrs. Tobin won’t mind,” Jess assured.  “She’s too sensible, I know.  And, besides, I’m quite young.”

A grim smile overspread Mrs. Tobin’s face as she listened to this conversation.  She was pleased with the girl, and anxious to learn more about her.

“I don’t mind Sam’l taking you on the boat,” she said, “and if you live along the river you can go with him as well as not.  But I never heard of the Bean family before.  I know about most of the people from St. John to Fredericton.”

“Miss Bean’s home is in the city,” John explained.  “She was visiting some friends at the quarry, and was hit on the head by a stone.  I happened to be there at the time, and so brought her home with me last night.  You heard about that other accident there, I suppose?”

“No; what accident?”

“A truck load of stone with two men on board struck a cow, which was standing on the track.  The cow was killed, and one of the men was badly hurt.”

“My, oh, my!” Mrs. Tobin exclaimed.  “I never heard the like of such things as are taking place these days.  With that poor girl drowned at Benton’s wharf, another injured at the quarry, a cow killed, and a man hurt.  The world must surely be coming to an end, for the Bible says there will be terrible things happening in the last days.”

“Oh, I guess the world will wag along for some time yet,” John laughingly replied.  “Wouldn’t you like to hear some music, Mrs. Tobin?”

They were all seated now, the captain as near the door as possible, that he might beat a hasty retreat should the situation become too embarrassing.  He breathed more freely when music was mentioned.

“Let’s have something lively, John,” he suggested.  “I haven’t heard a real break-down fer a long time.  Give us ’We won’t go home ’til mornin’,’ or something like that.”

“Sam’l, Sam’l,” his wife protested.  “I’m surprised at you.  With so many terrible things happening around us, we should have hymns instead of songs.  I’d like to have ‘Oh, Day of Wrath, that Dreadful Day.’  That’s far more appropriate.”

“Ugh!” the captain grunted.  “That hymn ’ud give anyone the blues.  What’s the use of dyin’ before yer time?  But if ye want to sing hymns, let’s start off with ‘Here I’ll Raise my Ebenezer.’  It’s a dandy, an’ about the only one I know.  But fer pity sakes, cut out the ’Day of Wrath.’  I know too much about that already.  Sometimes we have the night of wrath as well as the day at our house, eh, Martha?”