handkerchief and to regain some portion of his composure and his breath,
he walked in.

Gertrude, his daughter, was seated in his chair by the desk, and John
Doane was leaning upon the desk, talking with her. In the front of the
store, Sam Bartlett, the boy, who had evidently returned from breakfast,
was doing nothing in particular, and doing it with his usual air of
enjoyment. It was only when required to work that Sam was unhappy.

Gertrude looked up as her father entered; prior to that she had been
looking at the blotter on the desk. John Doane, who had been looking at
Gertrude, also changed the direction of his gaze. Captain Dan struggled
with the breath and the composure.

"Why, Dad!" exclaimed Gertrude. "What is it?"

"What's the matter, Cap'n Dott?" asked Mr. Doane.

Daniel did his best to appear calm; it was a poor best. At fifty-two one
cannot run impromptu hurdle races against time, and show no effects.

"Hey?" he panted. "Matter? Nothin's the matter. I left the store alone
for a minute and I was in a kind of hurry to get back to it, that's
all."

The explanation was not entirely satisfactory. Gertrude looked more
puzzled than ever.

"A minute," she repeated. "Left it a minute! Why, John and I have been
here fifteen minutes, and Sam was here when we came."