gallantly across the shallows, heeling to the breeze for all the world
like a real man-o'-war. Then the King would fain cruise at once against
the French, but Queen Dorothy must needs go with him. His Majesty points
out that when fighting is to be done, a ship of war is no place for a
woman, whereat her Majesty stamps her little foot and throws her crown of
orange blossoms from her, and starts off for the milk-house in high
dudgeon, vowing she will play no more.

And it ends as it ever will end, be the children young or old, for the
French pass from his Majesty's mind and he runs after his consort to
implore forgiveness, leaving poor Jonas to take care of the Conqueror.

How short those summer days? All too short for the girl and boy who had
so much to do in them. The sun rising over the forest often found us
peeping through the blinds, and when he sank into the bay at night we
were still running, tired but happy, and begging patient Hester for half
an hour more.

"Lawd, Marse Dick," I can hear her say, "you an' Miss Dolly's been on
yo' feet since de dawn. And so's I, honey."

And so we had. We would spend whole days on the wharves, all bustle and
excitement, sometimes seated on the capstan of the Sprightly Bess or
perched in the nettings of the Oriole, of which ship old Stanwix was now
captain. He had grown gray in Mr. Carvel's service, and good Mrs.
Stanwix was long since dead. Often we would mount together on the little
horse Captain Daniel had given me, Dorothy on a pillion behind, to go
with my grandfather to inspect the farm. Mr. Starkie, the overseer,
would ride beside us, his fowling-piece slung over his shoulder and his
holster on his hip; a kind man and capable, and unlike Mr. Evans, my