To the apprehension in her look he answered quickly.
"It's good noos. I ben a thoughtless old coot, Joyce; but after this I 'll do better by ye. Ye know, before buyin' the Amirald, I laid the future all out, as I thought. I did n't, not half; but I figgered I had. Well, I wrote Her, Up the Line, and says, 'bout like this: 'If you cal'late to come back some time, as I hope, write me, and I won't buy this brigantine.' 'Bout like that. Well, she never answered."
The tall clock, ticking heavily, marked the stillness of the room.
"She never answered. That—kind o'—set me loose to buy, 'cause ye see, I felt I had n't a fam'ly no more. But"—he halted anxiously.
"But you have!" cried the girl, springing up. She clasped the big, bent shoulders, hugged him. "You have, have n't you? You have. Father Captain!"
His free hand clumsily patted her. "All right, then," he growled, in great relief. His old, familiar manner returned. "Now we can set down and talk."
