It was not long after that brief conversation that he began to notice a
change in his son. He made no overtures of friendship to the dainty
witch at The Ship, but he took the trouble to make himself extremely
respectable when he made his weekly appearance there. He kept his shag
of red hair severely cropped. He attired himself in navy serge, and wore
a collar.

Adam's keen eyes took in the change and twinkled. Columbine's eyes
twinkled too. She had begun by being almost absurdly shy in the presence
of the young fisherman who sat so silently at his father's table, but
that phase had wholly passed away. She treated him now with a kindly
condescension, such as she might have bestowed upon a meek-souled dog.
All the other men--with the exception of Adam, whom she frankly
liked--she overlooked with the utmost indifference. They were plainly
lesser animals than dogs.

"She'll look high," said Mrs. Peck. "The chaps here ain't none of her
sort."

And again Adam grunted.

He was fond of Columbine, took her out in his boat, spun yarns for her,
gave her such treasures from the sea as came his way--played, in fact, a
father's part, save that from the very outset he was very careful to
assume no authority over her. That responsibility was reserved for Mrs.
Peck, whose kindly personality made the bare idea seem absurd.

And so to a very great extent Columbine had run wild. But the warm
responsiveness of her made her easy to manage as a general rule, and
Mrs. Peck's government was by no means exacting.