The captain, taking advantage of her back being turned towards him, eyed
her severely. The hardihood of the girl was appalling. His gaze
wandered from her to the bureau, and, as his eye fell on the key sticking
up in the lid, the idea of reading her a much-needed lesson presented
itself. He stepped over the pail towards the bureau and, catching the
girl's eye as she looked up, turned the key noisily in the lock and
placed it ostentatiously in his pocket. A sudden vivid change in
Selina's complexion satisfied him that his manoeuvre had been
appreciated.
"Are you afraid I shall steal anything?" she demanded, hotly, as he
regained the kitchen.
The captain quailed. "No," he said, hastily. "Somebody once took a
paper of mine out of there, though," he added. "So I keep it locked up
now."
Miss Vickers dropped the brush in the pail, and, rising slowly to her
feet, stood wiping her hands on her coarse apron. Her face was red and
white in patches, and the captain, regarding her with growing uneasiness,
began to take in sail.
[Illustration: "Miss Vickers stood wiping her hands on her coarse
apron."]
"At least, I thought they did," he muttered.
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