watching the unloading of the Pettasantuck.
The old man slid from his perch with alacrity, and emerging from a cloud of strong tobacco smoke touched his battered yachting cap.
"Dawson's the name, ma'am," he affirmed heartily, "an' Cap'n 's the title! Cap'n 'Bijah Dawson, lately master o' the Bella S., as trim a schooner as ever slipped her moorin's. An' 't ain't that I'm too old to be master of her now, ma'am—I be as rugged as ever—but them sneakin' fellers upped an'—"
"Excuse me," Joan broke in; "the clerk at the hotel told me that you might know of some place where I could stay to-night. I've just come, but the hotel is full and I find that the boat does n't go out until to-morrow. I've nowhere to sleep."
"'Shaw!" said Cap'n 'Bijah. "You don't say! Thet's shorely too bad. Lemme see, now," he continued, scratching his chin. "Mis' Beckly, she's got two school teachers from the city; an' Mis' Collins, she's full up with comp'ny; an' the Larkinses, they ain't got no room this year. I dunno, ma'am, as I know any place."
Joan stared rather gloomily at the lobster-pots, and Cap'n 'Bijah pondered silently.
