"Oh, not at all!" cried the girl.

He had done something for her by bringing her here, and he hoped to
do something more by taking her away. He was discomfited, for he was
at a loss what other attention to offer. Just at that moment a sound
made itself heard above the whistling of the cordage and the wash of
the sea, which caused Lydia to start and look round.

"Didn't you think," she asked, "that you heard hens?"

"Why, yes," said Dunham. "What could it have been? Let us
investigate."

He led the way back past the forecastle and the cook's galley, and
there, in dangerous proximity to the pots and frying pans, they found
a coop with some dozen querulous and meditative fowl in it.

"I heard them this morning," said Lydia. "They seemed to wake me
with their crowing, and I thought--I was at home!"

"I'm very sorry," said Dunham, sympathetically. He wished Staniford
were there to take shame to himself for denying sensibility to this
girl.

The cook, smoking a pipe at the door of his galley, said, "Dey won't
trouble you much, miss. Dey don't gen'ly last us long, and I'll kill
de roosters first."

"Oh, come, now!" protested Dunham. "I wouldn't say that!" The cook