"So? Do, hey? Didn't know I could pick so well. All right; the first prize is mine. Who takes the second?"

This time Bos'n deliberated before answering. At last, however, she bent forward and touched the teacher's gifts.

"These," she said. "I like these next best."

Captain Cy was surprised.

"Sho!" he exclaimed. "You don't say!"

"Yes. I think I like teacher next to you. I like Georgianna and Mr.

Tidditt and Mr. Bangs, of course, but I like her a little better. Don't you, uncle Cyrus?"

The captain changed the subject. He asked her what she should name her doll.

The Board of Strategy came in during the forenoon, and the presents had to be shown to them. While the exhibition was in progress Miss Dawes called. And before she left Gabe Lumley drove up in the depot wagon bearing a big express package addressed to "Miss Emily Thomas, Bayport."

"Humph!" exclaimed Captain Cy. "Somethin' more for Bos'n, hey! Who in the world sent it, do you s'pose?"

Asaph and Bailey made various inane suggestions as to the sender. Phoebe said nothing. There was a frown on her face as she watched the captain get to work on the box with chisel and hammer. It contained a beautiful doll, fully and expensively dressed, and pinned to the dress was a card--"To dear little Emmie, from her lonesome Papa."

The Board of Strategy looked at the doll in wonder and astonishment.

Captain Cy strode away to the window.

"Well!" exclaimed Mr. Bangs. "I didn't believe he had that much heart inside of him. I bet you that cost four or five dollars; ain't that so, Cy?"

The captain did not answer.

"Don't you think so, teacher?" repeated Bailey, turning to Phoebe. "What ails you? You don't seem surprised."

"I'm not," replied the lady. "I expected something of that sort."

Captain Cy wheeled from the window.

"You DID?" he asked.

"Yes. Miss Phinney said the other day she had heard that that man was going to give his daughter a beautiful present. She was very enthusiastic about his generosity and self-sacrifice. I asked who told her and she said Mr. Simpson."

"Oh! Tad? Is that so!" The captain looked at her.

"Yes. And I think there is no doubt that Simpson had orders to make the 'generosity' known to as many townspeople as possible."

"Hum! I see. You figure that Thomas cal'lates 'twill help his popularity and make his case stronger; is that it?"

"Not exactly. I doubt if he ever thought of such a thing himself. But some one thought for him--and some one must have supplied the money."

"Well, they say he's to work up in Boston."

"I know. But no one can tell where he works. Captain Whittaker, this is Mr. Atkins's doing--you know it. Now, WHY does he, a busy man, take such an interest in getting this child away from you?"

Captain Cy shook his head and smiled.

"Teacher," he said, "you're dead set on taggin' Heman with a mystery, ain't you?"

"Miss Dawes," asked the forgetful Bailey, "when you and me went drivin'

t'other day did you find out anything from--"

Phoebe interrupted quickly.

"Mr. Bangs," she said, "at what time do we distribute Christmas presents at your boarding house? I suppose you must have many Christmas secrets to keep. You keep a secret SO well."

Mr. Bangs turned red. The hint concerning secret keeping was not wasted.

He did not mention the drive again.

A little later Captain Cy found Bos'n busily playing with the doll he had given her. The other, her father's gift, was nowhere in sight.

"I put her back in the box," said the child in reply to his question.

"She was awful pretty, but I think I'm goin' to love this one best."

The remark seems a foolish thing to give comfort to a grown man, but Captain Cy found comfort in it, and comfort was what he needed.

He needed it more as time went on. In January the court gave its decision. The captain's appointment as guardian was revoked. With the father alive, and professedly anxious to provide for the child's support, nothing else was to be expected, so Mr. Peabody said. The latter entered an appeal which would delay matters for a time, two or three months perhaps; meanwhile Captain Cy was to retain custody of Bos'n.

But the court's action, expected though it was, made the captain very blue and downcast. He could see no hope. He felt certain that he should lose the little girl in the end, in spite of the long succession of appeals which his lawyer contemplated. And what would become of her then? What sort of training would she be likely to have? Who would her a.s.sociates be, under the authority of a father such as hers? And what would he do, alone in the old house, when she had gone for good? He could not bear to think of it, and yet he thought of little else.

The evenings, after Bos'n had gone to bed, were the worst. During the day he tried his best to be busy at something or other. The doll house was finished, and he had begun to fashion a full-rigged ship in miniature. In reality Emily, being a normal little girl, was not greatly interested in ships, but, because Uncle Cy was making it, she pretended to be vastly concerned about this one. On Sat.u.r.days and after school hours she sat on a box in the wood shed, where the captain had put up a small stove, and watched him work. The taboo which so many of our righteous and Atkins-worshiping townspeople had put upon the Whittaker place and its occupants included her, and a number of children had been forbidden to play with her. This, however, did not prevent their tormenting her about her father and her disreputable guardian.

But the captain's evenings were miserable. He no longer went to Simmons's. He didn't care for the crowd there, and knew they were all "down" on him. Josiah Dimick called occasionally, and the Board of Strategy often, but their conversation was rather tiresome. There were times when Captain Cy hated Bayport, the house he had "fixed up" with such interest and pride, and the old sitting room in particular. The mental picture of comfort and contentment which had been his dream through so many years of struggle and wandering, looked farther off than ever. Sometimes he was tempted to run away, taking Bos'n with him. But the captain had never run away from a fight yet; he had never abandoned a ship while there was a chance of keeping her afloat. And, besides, there was another reason.

Phoebe Dawes had come to be his chief reliance. He saw a great deal of her. Often when she walked home from school, she found him hanging over the front gate, and they talked of various things--of Bos'n's progress with her studies, of the school work, and similar topics. He called her by her first name now, although in this there was nothing unusual--after a few weeks' acquaintance we Bayporters almost invariably address people by their "front" names. Sometimes she came to the house with Emily. Then the three sat by the stove in the sitting room, and the apartment became really cheerful, in the captain's eyes.

Phoebe was in good spirits. She was as hopeful as Captain Cy was despondent. She seemed to have little fear of the outcome of the legal proceedings, the appeals and the rest. In fact, she now appeared desirous of evading the subject, and there was about her an air of suppressed excitement. Her optimism was the best sort of bracer for the captain's failing courage. Her advice was always good, and a talk with her left him with shoulders squared, mentally, and almost happy.

One cold, rainy afternoon, early in February, she came in with Bos'n, who had availed herself of the shelter of the teacher's umbrella.

Georgianna was in the kitchen baking, and Emily had been promised a "saucer pie"--so the child went out to superintend the construction of that treat.

"Set down, teacher," said Captain Cy, pushing forward a rocker. "My!

but I'm glad to see you. 'Twas bluer'n a whetstone 'round here to-day.

What's the news--anything?"

"Why, no," replied Phoebe, accepting the rocker and throwing open her wet jacket; "there's no news in particular. But I wanted to ask if you had seen the Breeze?"

"Um--hum," was the listless answer. "I presume likely you mean the news about the appropriation, and the editorial dig at yours truly? Yes, I've seen it. They don't bother me much. I've got more important things on my mind just now."

Congressman Atkins's pledge in his farewell speech, concerning the mighty effort he was to make toward securing the appropriation for Bayport harbor, was in process of fulfillment--so he had written to the local paper. But, alas! the mighty effort was likely to prove unavailing. In spite of the Honorable Heman's battle for his const.i.tuents' rights it seemed certain that the bill would not provide the thirty thousand dollars for Bayport; at least, not this year's bill.

Other and more powerful interests would win out and, instead, another section of the coast be improved at the public expense. The congressman was deeply sorry, almost broken-hearted. He had battled hard for his beloved town, he had worked night and day. But, to be perfectly frank, there was little or no hope.

Few of us blamed Heman Atkins. The majority considered his letter "n.o.ble" and "so feeling." But some one must be blamed for a community disappointment like this, and the scapegoat was on the premises. How about that "committee of one" self-appointed at town meeting? How about the blatant person who had declared HE could have gotten the appropriation? What had the "committee" done? Nothing! nothing at all!

He had not even written to the Capital--so far as anyone could find out--much less gone there.