THE FATTED CALF. 21 



They drew their chairs close around the Prodi- 

 gal. There was no way of escape. He was 

 secretly glad there was none. 



Doubtless it was not wholly by accident that 

 Dorothy sat directly in front of him. Her seat 

 was a sort of low hassock. She curled herself 

 round it prettily, one knee raised, one little slipper 

 peeping out from the edge of her yellow satin 

 gown, her hands clasped over her knee, and her 

 sweet face lifted up toward his. A girl is her 

 loveliest when she looks up. Probably that is 

 why Dorothy had chosen the hassock. 



" Well, if I must, I must. This time I'll tell 

 you about the Ten Commandments. 



" One Sunday, not so very long after the old 

 man had put his watch in soak, I happened to be 

 feeling a bit out of sorts. I knew that if I told 

 the old man I was sick he'd dose me with castor 

 oil every hour for a week. So I cast about for a 

 nice, quiet place to lie down and go to sleep. I 

 found just what I wanted and, willingly running 

 the risk of punishment, I curled myself up in the 

 second mate's bunk and sailed for the land of Nod. 



" Now it was my duty to take the hog-yoke on 

 deck at eleven o'clock." (Dorothy's eyes said, 

 "What, sir, do you mean by a hog-yoke?") 

 " That's the quadrant, you know, for the old man 



