squiggles. Come down in the cabin; there's a glass there."

Miss Harris, with a light nod to the skipper as he sat at the tiller,
followed the mate below, and giving vent to a little cry of indignation
as she saw herself in the glass, waved the amorous Ted on deck, and
started work on her disarranged hair.

At breakfast-time a little friction was caused by what the mate bitterly
termed the narrow-minded, old-fashioned ways of the skipper. He had
arranged that the skipper should steer while he and Miss Harris
breakfasted, but the coffee was no sooner on the table than the skipper
called him, and relinquishing the helm in his favour, went below to do
the honours. The mate protested.

"It's not proper," said the skipper. "Me and 'er will 'ave our meals
together, and then you must have yours. She's under my care."

Miss Harris assented blithely, and talk and laughter greeted the ears of
the indignant mate as he steered. He went down at last to cold coffee
and lukewarm herrings, returning to the deck after a hurried meal to find
the skipper narrating some of his choicest experiences to an audience
which hung on his lightest word.

The disregard they showed for his feelings was maddening, and for the
first time in his life he became a prey to jealousy in its worst form.
It was quite clear to him that the girl had become desperately enamoured
of the skipper, and he racked his brain in a wild effort to discover the
reason.

With an idea of reminding his brother-in-law of his position, he alluded