Presently a
smile of genial maliciousness stole over his face, and he asked,
"How about the poor little gal? Have you sent her back to Mrs.
Crumley's?"
The little girl came out from behind the Christmas tree, her
stocking, now but half filled, in her hand. "Here I am," she
said. "Don't you want to give me a Christmas hug, Captain
Cephas? You and me's the only ones that hasn't had any."
The Christmas dinner was as truly and perfectly a sailor-
cooked meal as ever was served on board a ship or off it.
Captain Cephas had said that, and when he had so spoken there was
no need of further words.
It was nearly dark that afternoon, and they were all sitting
around the kitchen fire, the three seafaring men smoking, and
Mrs. Trimmer greatly enjoying it. There could be no objection to
the smell of tobacco in this house so long as its future mistress
enjoyed it. The little girl sat on the floor nursing a Chinese
idol which had been one of her presents.
"After all," said Captain Eli, meditatively, "this whole
business come out of my sleepin' with my best ear up. Fer if I'd
slept with my hard-o'-hearin' ear up--" Mrs. Trimmer put one
finger on his lips. "All right," said Captain Eli, "I won't say
no more. But it would have been different."
Even now, several years after that Christmas, when there is
no Mrs. Trimmer, and the little girl, who has been regularly
adopted by Captain Eli and his wife, is studying geography, and
knows more about latitude and longitude than her teacher at
school, Captain Eli has still a slight superstitious dread of
sleeping with his best ear uppermost.
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