"Not Grogan the stevedore?" Babcock asked in astonishment.

"Yes, Grogan the stevedore. Come! Make it short,--what can I do
for ye?"

"Then this must be my boat. I came down"--

"Ye're not the boss?"--looking him over slowly from his feet up, a
good-natured smile irradiating her face, her eyes beaming, every
tooth glistening. "There's me hand, I'm glad to see ye. I've
worked for ye off and on for four years, and niver laid eyes on ye
till this minute. Don't say a word. I know it. I've kept the
concrete gangs back half a day, but I couldn't help it. I've had
four horses down with the 'zooty, and two men laid up with
dip'thery. The Big Gray Cully's drivin' over there--the one
that's a-hoistin'--ain't fit to be out of the stables. If ye
weren't behind in the work, he'd have two blankets on him this
minute. But I'm here meself now, and I'll have her out to-night
if I work till daylight. Here, cap'n, pull yerself together.
This is the boss."

Then catching sight of the boy turning a handspring behind the
horse, she called out again:--

"Now, look here, Cully, none of your skylarkin'. There's the
dinner whistle. Unhitch the Big Gray; he's as dry as a bone."

The boy loosened the traces and led the horse to water, and
Babcock, after a word with the Captain, and an encouraging smile