"OH! THIS NAUGHTY BOY!"

As has been intimated once or twice before, I had modified to some degree the liking I at first entertained for Mr. Wesson. He interfered in my affairs rather more than was to my taste. I had never placed myself under his guardianship. He had no right to advise or to warn me on any subject whatever. As I beheld him on the veranda at Eggert's I saw in his presence a new impertinence which I was far from relishing. If there had been any way to avoid him I would have done so gladly.

Of course Miss May had no means of knowing what was in my mind. She therefore waved her hand to Wesson as soon as she recognized his face and on coming nearer gave him a cordial welcome.

"Well, this is a surprise!" he exclaimed, glancing from one of us to the other. "You did not tell me you intended to stop at St. Thomas and I supposed you still on the Madiana."

"How comes it you are here, yourself?" I asked, pointedly. "I do not recollect that you expressed any intention of leaving the boat."

"Did I not?" he asked, as if surprised. "I could have sworn I did until you spoke. I certainly made you talk about this island, for hours at a time, and I thought you understood it. I feel almost as well acquainted with Mr. Eggert and his family, through your descriptions, as if I had actually been here before. Being an early riser I inquired the way this morning, at the Hotel du Commerce, and walked out to see the place you had made so attractive. One of the darkies let me in at the gate, and here I am."

It was plain enough now. He had supposed I understood his intention, though he had never, I was sure, put the statement into words. He had as much right there as I, if it came to that. There was really no reason why I should treat him uncivilly.

Miss May went on to her room and I waited a moment before going to mine.

"Now you are here," I said, "you will of course take breakfast with me—or at least coffee, if you are in too much haste to wait longer."

"I'm not in the least haste," he responded, "and I accept your invitation with great pleasure."

"I've found an old friend here, Mr. Eggert," I said, as that individual appeared in a doorway. "We came on the Madiana together."

Asking Eggert to entertain him for a little while I went to dress. Miss May heard me come in and spoke through the thin partition between our rooms.

"You didn't act overjoyed to see Mr. Wesson," she said.

"No. He's a sort of 'third person makes a crowd,' you know."

"You're a selfish fellow. But wasn't that bath delightful!"

"Perfection. Did I overstate it, when I described it to you yesterday?"

"Not in the least—ough!"

"What is the matter?"

"I've stuck a pin in my finger."

"I'm so sorry!"

Then followed sounds which indicated that the finger was being placed in her mouth to assuage the pain.

"What a pity you are not a girl!" she said, a little later. "You could help dress me and save a lot of trouble."

"I could help dress you without that awful alternative," I replied. "I am like the pilot in the story, I know every rock in the harbor."

"Oh, I've no doubt. Look out, like that same pilot, you're not wrecked on one of them some day."

"Can you manage a string tie?" I asked, as a more important subject was forced on my attention.

I always made a mess of that operation and this morning my luck was worse than usual.

"Easily," she said. "Do you want me to fix yours?"

"I wish you would."

"I will, with pleasure," she said. "Come in here when you are ready; or, shall I come there?"

"For goodness' sake don't come just yet!" I exclaimed, thinking I heard her step. "I am not at all prepared. In fact that tie is about the only article of dress I have on."

"Don't be afraid," came the mocking tones. "I am in much the same situation. Fifteen minutes from now we will both be ready, and then I shall be at your service."

After several minutes of silence I inquired whether any more pins had proved unruly.

"No, I'm getting on pretty well. Say, can you get at your soap?"

"Why, do you want some?"

"Yes."

"How can I get it to you?"

"Put on your morning gown and come to my door."

I did so, with the cake of soap in my hand and met my companion, somewhat similarly arrayed, holding out a bare arm. She did look to my eyes at that moment wonderfully pretty.

"Come, Marjorie," I said, dropping into the affectionate form, "you might let me in for a minute or two. You don't know how becoming that attire is."

"I know all about it. I've been looking in the glass. Hurry up and finish dressing. I will meet you on the veranda."

Wesson came along at that moment with Eggert and smiled. I resented that smile. It meant a hundred things that he had no right to surmise; besides, they weren't true.

"It is perfectly lovely here," he commented, to Eggert as much as to me. "My friend Camwell has not misrepresented it in the least."

"Camran," corrected Eggert, for which I could have punched his head. Were they going to argue that point over between them?

"Camran, I should have said," corrected Wesson. "Could I make arrangements to come out here and board while I remain on the island?"

"Damn!" I exclaimed, under my breath, but Marjorie heard me through the partition.

"What is the matter?" she asked, sympathetically. "Has something pricked you, too?"

"Yes," I said, for the couple on the veranda had moved out of hearing. "Something I don't like. What do you think that confounded Wesson is saying to Eggert?"

"I don't know."

"He wants to come out here and board."

"Well, that idea does credit to his judgment."

"But it will put me to lots of bother."

"I don't see how."

"Why, if he moves out here, you and I will have to move up to the town."

She digested this statement for a while, during which she put the finishing touches to her toilet. Then she asked if I was in suitable condition for her to come to my door.

"Come and see," I retorted. "I've got on much more than either of us had when we strolled down to the beach an hour ago. I think I heard somebody say yesterday that there was no need of being too prudish."

"But at that time I wasn't feeling well."

"And at this time I'm feeling devilish bad, myself."

She came slowly, with little stops, at which she renewed her inquiries and asked for fuller information. When she finally arrived I proved to be completely dressed with the exception of the tie and a morning coat, and we had a laugh together.

"You didn't really mean that you would leave here just on account of Mr. Wesson's coming?" she said, interrogatively, as she arranged the tie.

"Yes," I replied, holding up my head to give her fingers full play. Her breath was in my nostrils, sweet breath that made me think of meadows and new-mown hay.

"What harm can he do us?"

"He'll be continually in the way."

"He seems very polite always."

"That's just the trouble," I snarled. "If he would only get ugly I could have it out with him in a minute. If he would keep at one end of the veranda while we were at the other, all would be well. He won't do that. He'll be good natured, sociable, all that sort of hateful thing. The quarantine grounds measure only five acres and there's not room enough here for any other man, while it is your residence."

She was so near that I could have snatched a kiss before she could stop me. I would almost as soon have bitten her.

"Eggert?" she said, tentatively. "He's got to go, too, then?"

"No, I make an exception of Eggert. But Wesson—I simply can't have him here. Either he must go, or I shall."

We had passed the coffee hour, forgetting it in the pleasure of the bath and the labor of dressing. The regular breakfast was now announced. I determined to be as agreeable to Wesson as I could, but I did not think Eggert need to have placed him on the other side of Marjorie, next to her. Still, how was he to know?

"I have been talking with our host about coming out here for awhile," said Wesson, as we were breakfasting. "It is ever so much pleasanter than in the town."

He must have seen, in spite of my efforts, that I did not enthuse over the idea, for all I could say was "Ah," and wait for him to proceed.

"I hardly think I will do it, though," Wesson went on to say, eyeing me narrowly. "I have a very comfortable room at the hotel. If you don't mind my coming out for a stroll occasionally"—he looked alternately at Miss May and at me—"I think it would help me get over my lonesomeness."

Marjorie did not wait to consult me, but said she was sure he would always be welcome. She added that some literary work she and I had to do would keep us very busy for the present. To my joy, Wesson settled his plans on the spot, as he had outlined them. We were to be left alone, after all.

Soon after rising from the table Wesson started back to town. I hoped as I saw his form disappear that he did not think I had been discourteous in not endorsing his scheme to make my life a burden.

"Now," said Marjorie, brightly, as he vanished through the gate, "let us get to work. You can't imagine how happy I shall be to find myself of use after this long vacation."

I got out the memoranda required, from the bottom of a trunk, and arranged the writing machine on a little "dressmaker's table" which I had brought, folded up in a tray. It was exactly the right height, and took up hardly more room than a chess board—I mean the table, of course. For an hour I tried to put the genealogy in shape, and then threw it up with an exclamation of disgust.

"Confound the thing! I'm going to drop it for to-day," I said. "It's dryer than dust."

Marjorie obediently put away the machine at my suggestion, saying that perhaps we would begin again after lunch. I told her that the next three hours after lunch were sacred to Morpheus, and that we were now in a region where it was impossible to resist the drowsy god with impunity.

We drew our rocking chairs together and talked, and I was very happy. Sometimes I took one of her hands in mine. It was very sweet to have her there.

"It is going to be dull for you," I suggested, after a time. "Whenever you can bear it no longer say so, and we will move on."

"I am in your employ," she answered, "and shall stay or go, as you bid me."

"Marjorie," I exclaimed, suddenly, "have you ever been in love?"

"I would rather talk on some other subject," she replied, soberly.

"Then I know you have. Tell me, is he living? is he still single? do you expect to marry him?"

She closed her mouth tightly and I knew no way to open it.

"I am such a foolish fellow!" I added. "Does it surprise you to learn that? I don't want you to love any one, or even to think of any one while you are with me. I want you to like me very much indeed."

She turned her face toward me and surveyed me leisurely with those blue-gray eyes.

"I do like you," she said, kindly, "but—"

"You think I demand too much for my twenty dollars a week," I said, with an attempt to be merry. "I know I do. I realize that my contract with you was for typewriting services. There is no doubt you can hold me to that bond if you so elect. All I want to say is, I am like most contractors—and mean to better my bargain, if I can."

"What do you want?" she asked, in clear, distinct tones. "We have agreed not to lie to each other. What do you want?"

I rose and looked out upon the sea. A tiny sail was visible in the distance.

"I want a closer friendship with you," I replied, after studying the form of words.

"I think we are pretty close friends already," she said. "I would not have believed, had I been told by some fortune-teller in New York, that in ten days we would be on such perfectly intimate terms."

I resumed my seat and stretched my arms above my head.

"Why, this—this is nothing!" I said.

"I was afraid you would take that view of it," she answered, soberly, "and I hope you will permit me to resume the position called for in what you term our 'contract.'"

I was alarmed by her words and the way she spoke them. She might take a notion to carry that idea into effect, and what a dull existence I would have then.

"You certainly agreed to act as a 'companion' to me," I reminded her.

"And though I have been much more than that, you are still discontented! I have acted as if I had known you for years; in fact, that is exactly the way I feel. You may think me forward—I fear you do—but I have only tried to be natural. You talk to me as to a friend; I reply in the same strain. You take my hand in yours; I do not withdraw it. You call me to arrange a tie; I come as freely as if you were my brother. My head aches; I ask you into my chamber, lie down and submit to your manipulations with the cologne. If all this means nothing to you, as you say, it means very much to me. It means that I like you, trust you, believe you what you claimed to be—when you first told me of this plan—a gentleman."

She had put me in the dock and was reading a sort of left-handed indictment, to which I had no intention of pleading guilty.

"Listen, Marjorie," I replied. "You must not misunderstand. If any cloud comes between us it will not originate with me, knowingly. If you knew the life I have led hitherto—which you never will—you would realize what an ungovernable chap I am, and how much forbearance you are going to need. I am perfectly contented. If I can make you happy on this journey my greatest object will be accomplished. Tell me how I can best secure that result?"

"By not talking about it," she said, with a smile. "And by remembering at all times that the greatest chivalry is due a woman who has placed herself absolutely in your power—to make or mar her life."

"If you would only give me one kiss when you say that so prettily," I began—

"Breaking the rules already?" said Miss May, with an admonishing finger. "Oh, this naughty boy! what shall be done with him?"