gathered them back into his hand, and slipped them into his pocket,
with a nod and wink full of comfort. "I'll see to it," he said. "At
any rate, this ship ain't a-going to sail without them, if she waits
a week. Now, then, Mr. Latham!"

The old man, who waited, when not directly addressed or concerned,
in a sort of blank patience, suddenly started out of his daze, and
following the captain too alertly up the gangway stairs drove his hat
against the hatch--with a force that sent him back into Lydia's arms.

"Oh, grandfather, are you hurt?" she piteously asked, trying to pull
up the hat that was jammed down over his forehead.

"Not a bit! But I guess my hat's about done for,--without I can get it
pressed over; and I d'know as this kind of straw _doos_ press."

"First-rate!" called the captain from above. "Never mind the hat."
But the girl continued fondly trying to reshape it, while the old man
fidgeted anxiously, and protested that he would be sure to be left.
It was like a half-shut accordion when she took it from his head;
when she put it back it was like an accordion pulled out.

"All ready!" shouted Captain Jenness from the gap in the bulwark,
where he stood waiting to descend into the small boat. The old man
ran towards him in his senile haste, and stooped to get over the side
into the boat below.

"Why, grandfather!" cried the girl in a breaking voice, full of keen,
yet tender reproach.