“Mr. Bangs,” she said, “I am in such trouble.  It’s about father, as usual.  I’m afraid he is at it again.”

“Eh?  I beg pardon?  Oh, yes, certainly.”

Martha shook her head.  “He hasn’t the slightest idea what you mean, Lulie,” she declared.  “That’s why he says ’Oh, yes, certainly.’  She means, Mr. Bangs, that Cap’n Jethro is beginnin’ to break out with another attack of Marietta Hoag’s spirits, and we’ve been tryin’ to think of a way to stop him.  We haven’t yet.  Perhaps you can.  Can you?”

Lulie went on to explain.  Her father had been more gloomy and thoughtful for the last week or two.  She had noticed it and so had Zach.  He talked with her less and less as the days passed, lapsed into silences at meals, and on nights when he was supposed to be off duty and asleep she often heard him walking about his room.  If she asked him, as, of course, she often did, what was the matter, if he was not feeling well or if there was anything troubling him, he only growled a negative or ordered her not to bother him.

“And when, last Wednesday at supper,” she went on, “Zach said something about the engine for the foghorn not working just as it should, father’s answer showed us both what was in his mind.  I had guessed it before and Zach says he had, but then we knew.”

“Tell Mr. Bangs what he said,” urged Martha.

“He didn’t say so very much, Mr. Bangs, but it was the way he said it.  He glowered at poor Zach, who hadn’t said or done anything wrong, and pulled his beard as he always does.  Then he said:  ’There’s no wonder the engine’s out of kilter.  There’s no wonder about that.  The wonder is that anything’s right aboard here.  We’ve been trying to steer without a compass.  We’ve got so we think we don’t need a pilot or a chart, but are so everlasting smart we can cruise anywhere on our own hook.’  ‘Why, father,’ said I, ‘what do you mean?’ He glared at me then.  ‘Mean?’ he asked.  ’I mean we’ve had guidance offered to us, offered to us over and over again, and we’ve passed it by on the other side.’”

She paused.  Galusha looked puzzled.

“Ah—­um, yes,” he observed.  “On the other side?  Yes—­ah—­quite so.”

“Oh, that was just his way of speaking, Mr. Bangs.  I tried to change the subject.  I asked him if he didn’t think we should report the engine trouble to the inspector when he came next month.  It was a mistake, my saying that.  He got up from his chair.  ’I’m going to report,’ he said.  ’I’m going to make my report aloft and ask for guidance.  The foghorn ain’t the only thing that’s runnin’ wild.  My own flesh and blood defies me.’”

Martha interrupted.  “You hear that, Mr. Bangs?” she said.  “And we were all hopin’ that snarl was straightenin’ itself out.”

Galusha looked very uneasy.  “Dear me,” he said.  “Really, now.  Oh, dear!”