“He’ll be here to-morrow or next day!” he cried, as he advanced to where she sat at her desk in the doctor’s office, the same light in his eyes and the same buoyant tone in his voice, his ruddy face aglow with his walk from the station.

“You have another letter then?” she said in a resigned tone, as if she had expected it and was prepared to meet its consequences.  In her suffering she had even forgotten her customary welcome of him—­for whatever his attitude and however gruff he might be, she never forgot the warm heart beneath.

“Yes, from Amboy,” panted the captain, out of breath with his quick walk, dragging a chair beside Jane’s desk as he spoke.  “He got mine when the steamer come in.  He’s goin’ to take the packet so he kin bring his things—­got a lot o’ them, he says.  And he loves the old home, too—­he says so—­you kin read it for yourself.”  As he spoke he unbuttoned his jacket, and taking Bart’s letter from its inside pocket, laid his finger on the paragraph and held it before her face.

“Have you talked about it to anybody?” Jane asked calmly; she hardly glanced at the letter.

“Only to the men; but it’s all over Barnegat.  A thing like that’s nothin’ but a cask o’ oil overboard and the bung out—­runs everywhere—­no use tryin’ to stop it.”  He was in the chair now, his arms on the edge of the desk.

“But you’ve said nothing to anybody about Archie and Lucy, and what Bart intends to do when he comes, have you?” Jane inquired in some alarm.

“Not a word, and won’t till ye see him.  She’s more your sister than she is his wife, and you got most to say ’bout Archie, and should.  You been everything to him.  When you’ve got through I’ll take a hand, but not before.”  The captain always spoke the truth, and meant it; his word settled at once any anxieties she might have had on that score.

“What have you decided to do?” She was not looking at him as she spoke; she was toying with a penholder that lay before her on the desk, apparently intent on its construction.

“I’m goin’ to meet him at Farguson’s ship-yard when the Polly comes in,” rejoined the captain in a positive tone, as if his mind had long since been made up regarding details, and he was reciting them for her guidance—­“and take him straight to my house, and then come for you.  You kin have it out together.  Only one thing, Miss Jane”—­here his voice changed and something of his old quarter-deck manner showed itself in his face and gestures—­“if he’s laid his course and wants to keep hold of the tiller I ain’t goin’ to block his way and he shall make his harbor, don’t make no difference who or what gits in the channel.  Ain’t neither of us earned any extry pay for the way we’ve run this thing.  You’ve got Lucy ashore flounderin’ ’round in the fog, and I had no business to send him off without grub or compass.  If he wants to steer now he’ll steer.  I don’t want you to make no mistake ’bout this, and you’ll excuse me if I put it plain.”