Lucy’s color came and went.  His tone offended her, especially before Mrs. Dellenbaugh, who, although she spoke but seldom in public had a tongue of her own when she chose to use it.  She was not accustomed to being spoken to in so brusque a way.  She understood perfectly well the captain’s covert meaning, but she did not intend either to let him see it or to lose her temper.

“Oh, not the slightest,” she answered with a light laugh.  “I have no doubt that it will be the making of him to be with you.  Poor boy, he certainly needs a father’s care.”

The captain winced in turn under the retort and his eyes flashed, but he made no reply.

Little Ellen had slipped out of the captain’s lap during the colloquy.  She had noticed the change in her friend’s tone, and, with a child’s intuition, had seen that the harmony was in danger of being broken.  She stood by the captain’s knee, not knowing whether to climb back again or to resume her seat by the window.  Lucy, noticing the child’s discomfort, called to her: 

“Come here, Ellen, you will tire the captain.”

The child crossed the room and stood by her mother while Lucy tried to rearrange the glossy curls, tangled by too close contact with the captain’s broad shoulder.  In the attempt Ellen lost her balance and fell into her mother’s lap.

“Oh, Ellen!” said her mother coldly; “stand up, dear.  You are so careless.  See how you have mussed my gown.  Now go over to the window and play with your dolls.”

The captain noted the incident and heard Lucy’s reproof, but he made no protest.  Neither did he contradict the mother’s statement that the little girl had tired him.  His mind was occupied with other things—­the tone of the mother’s voice for one, and the shade of sadness that passed over the child’s face for another.  From that moment he took a positive dislike to her.

“Well, think it over, Miss Jane,” he said, rising from his seat and reaching for his hat.  “Plenty of time ‘bout Archie.  Life-savin’ house won’t be finished for the next two or three months; don’t expect to git into it till June.  Wonder, little Pond Lily, if the weather’s goin’ to be any warmer?” He slipped his hand under the child’s chin and leaning over her head peered out of the window.  “Don’t look like it, does it, little one?  Looks as if the snow would hold on.  Hello! here comes the doctor.  I’ll wait a bit—­good for sore eyes to see him, and I don’t git a chance every day.  Ask him ’bout Archie, Miss Jane.  He’ll tell ye whether the lad’s too young.”

There came a stamping of feet on the porch outside as Doctor John shook the snow from his boots, and the next instant he stepped into the room bringing with him all the freshness and sunshine of the outside world.

“Good-morning, good people,” he cried, “every one of you!  How very snug and cosey you look here!  Ah, captain, where have you been keeping yourself?  And Mrs. Dellenbaugh!  This is indeed a pleasure.  I have just passed the dear doctor, and he is looking as young as he did ten years ago.  And my Lady Lucy!  Down so early!  Well, Mistress Martha, up again I see; I told you you’d be all right in a day or two.”