The star. (Reynoldsville, Pa.) 1892-1946, 1902-06-18


| s'pose we could get 'em?"
sort o. mean" answered the engi-
| neer sort o. mean 10 mix her up with
our troubles. Though. by jinKs, she
| will be mixed mp anyway ii the lid ever
comes off those pots below. We don't
know but what he might welcome some
trouble like that. Marriage is uncer-
tain in its effects on some people,"
For thre days they slowed cargo for
a run north to Portland, and the cap
tain watched operations without any
suspicion that his vocabularic mate
and tinkering engineer had conspired
against min, fer his own good. The last
case was lowered into the hold; the
| last unruly bundle Of iron blasphemed
| into it's place, and the San Antonio put
| out into the channel and headed for the
| Golden Gate. 1t was clear and warm
and under the declining sun the bey
stretched into shimmering glory of
| dazzling, sparkling beauty. Mrs. Van
| Olinda answered her husbands call and
| came up to the ridiculously small
bridge. With quiet eyes she watch
| ed the solemn ferry-boats trundle by,
the ships lying in the stream with
| yards trimmed to a hair, the busy
moles, domineered over by tipsy coal
craft, and above, and about, and
through all the wonderful light of the
sun. With a gesture of comprehension
| of what all this was to be to her, she
put one hand over the rough fist of her
husband. The mate turned modestly
h,,th h. hno orl no.
| Van, how | love this!"
That night Twizzle sought Harris in
! the engine-room, and. after relating
the above event, asked his opinion on
| 1t. Dye reckon he's going to run her
to suit HIMSELF" he said in conclusion.
The chief swung himself upon an
| oil-barrel lashed in the corner, and lit
his pipe. Who knows?" he said,
| finally.
Il don't" the mated admitted.
We'll. I'll tell ye what ! think
thing all women are very easy han
| died, il you know how to get about
| it,"
How do you go about it:
"Um-m-several have wondered"
said the engineer. Personally, have
| an opinion that they're summat like
engines. Look after 'em, keep 'em run
ming in clear water, don't let 'em race
'emselves sick, and-whatever else ye
do-never take your eyes of 'em one
minute. Coax, wheedle, pet, talk nice,
and never cuss. Save your cussin' for
a place where it'll do good"
| IF Van ever cusses her." the mate
broke out, ''Ill hit him sure as I'm
Samuel Twizzle."
| You're racing now; shut Off steam,
Sam. It's not your business, nor mine.
Anyway, that isn't the question. And
let me tell you" continued Harris
warmly, that you'll get into trouble
| quicker that way than any way know
of"
The mate felt foolish and started to-
ward the deck. I'VE might suggest oc-
casionally." he hinted
"Oh. yet, suggest If you like-not
a bad idea, that. You suggest good
stories. and I'll suggest new boilers.
You bet; suggestion s the safe way"
So the conspirators parted.
The next day the chief left the en-
gines in charge of his assistant, and
smoked a pipe on the forward deck.
Presently he thought he would look
in on the cook and see how matters
| progressed in the galley. To his utter
astonishment he found Mrs. Van Olnda
experimenting some culinary opera
tion that was wholly strange to him.
| Come in, Mr.. Harris" she said
cheerily, come in, and try some mar
malade."
"Marmalade!" gasped the engineer,
feebly.
Yes; I'm making it myself. It's not
cool yet, but it's good. Here" She
handed him a piece of bread covered
with the delectable preserve, and he
bit into it wonderingly. YES" she
went on, I'VE people from Iowa know
how TO make things like that. To-
morrow Pm going to make apple-but-
ter"
why don't you leave it to the
cook?" he asked.
ITO that dirty man. Why, had
to tell him Just now TO 60 and wash
his hands. He doesn't know anything.
I'm going to get a good kitchen-girl
thatll keep things decent"
You haven't big kettle down
stairs, have you, Mr.. Harris?" Mrs.
Van Olinda inquired with anxiety.
Il can't let you have the donkey
boiler" said Harris, gravely. Its got
a hole in it. but ! might patch it up
for you"
rs it copper or iron? You know ap-
ple-butter ought really to be made in
copper"
I'm afraid it wouldn't do them,
Mrs. Van," responded the engineer,
fearing ne had gone too far. It's iron,
and rather dirty"
I'm sorry, Mr.. Harris, for all the
cooks pots are too small. 1t might
do, even If it is iron"
Ben Harris, with face of prodigi-
ous solemhfty, thanked her for the
marmalRde and descended hastily In