head.

"Oh, the cook!" said the skipper. "I didn't know his name was Jewell.
Yes, he's in the galley."

He stood eyeing her and wondering in a dazed fashion what she could see
in a small, white-faced, slab-sided--

The girl broke in upon his meditations. "How does he cook?" she
inquired, smiling.

He was about to tell her, when he suddenly remembered the cook's
statement as to his instructor.

"He's getting on," he said, slowly; "he's getting on. Are you his
sister?"

The girl smiled and nodded. "Ye--es," she said, slowly. "Will you tell
him I am waiting for him, please?"

The skipper started and drew himself up; then he walked forward and put
his head in at the galley.

"Bert," he said, in a friendly voice, "your sister wants to see you."

"_Who?_" inquired Mr. Jewell, in the accents of amazement. He put
his head out at the door and nodded, and then, somewhat red in the face
with the exercise, drew on his jacket and walked towards her. The
skipper followed.