"I've got nothing to do," said the skipper, hastily. "I--I was thinking
of going for a walk; but it's lonely walking about by yourself."

Miss Jewell agreed. She lowered her eyes and looked under the lashes at
the skipper.

"I never had a sister," continued the latter, in melancholy accents.

"I don't suppose you would want to take her out if you had," said the
girl.

The skipper protested. "Bert takes you out," he said.

"He isn't like most brothers," said Miss Jewell, shifting along the
locker and placing her hand affectionately on the cook's shoulder.

"If I had a sister," continued the skipper, in a somewhat uneven voice,
"I should take her out. This evening, for instance, I should take her to
a theatre."

Miss Jewell turned upon him the innocent face of a child. "It would be
nice to be your sister," she said, calmly.

The skipper attempted to speak, but his voice failed him. "Well, pretend
you are my sister," he said, at last, "and we'll go to one."

"Pretend?" said Miss Jewell, as she turned and eyed the cook. "Bert
wouldn't like that," she said, decidedly.

"N--no," said the cook, nervously, avoiding the skipper's eye.