e
quaintness of it all. That was what made me wish to spend a month
down here and experience it myself. And he has often spoken," with an
irrepressible smile, "of your--of the lightkeeper, Mr. Atkins. That is
his name, isn't it?"

"Yes."

"I want to meet him. Horace said he was--well, rather odd, but, when you
knew him, a fine fellow and full of dry humor. I'm sure I should like
him."

Brown smiled, also--and broadly. He mentally pictured Seth's reception
of the news that he was "liked" by the young lady across the cove. And
then it occurred to him, with startling suddenness, that he had been
conversing very familiarly with that young lady, notwithstanding the
solemn interchange of vows between the lightkeeper and himself.

"I must be going," he said hastily; "good morning, Miss Graham."

He waded to the shore and strode rapidly back toward the boathouse. His
companion called after him.

"I shall expect you to-morrow afternoon," she said. "You've promised to
teach me that side stroke, remember."

Brown dressed in a great hurry and climbed the path to the lights at the
double quick. All was safe and serene in the house, and he breathed more
freely. Atkins was sound asleep, really asleep, in the bedroom, and when
he emerged he was evidently quite unaware of his helper's unpremeditated
treason. Brown's conscience pricked him, however, and he went to
bed that night vowing over and over that he would be more careful
thereafter. He would take care not to meet the Graham girl again. Having
reached this decision, there remained nothing but to put her out of his
mind entirely; which he succeeded in doing at a quarter after eleven,
when he fell asleep. Even then she was not entirely absent, for he
dreamed a ridiculous dream about her.

Next day he did not go for a swim, but remained in the house. Seth, at
supper, demanded to know what ailed him.

"You're as mum as the oldest inhabitant of a deaf and dumb asylum," was
the lightkeeper's comment. "And ugly as a bull in fly time. What ails
you?"

"Nothing."

"Humph! better take somethin' for it, seems to me. Little 'Stomach
Balm,' hey? No? Well, GO to bed! Your room's enough sight better'n your
company just now."

The helper's ill nature was in evidence again at breakfast time. Seth
endeavored to joke him out of it, but, not succeeding, and finding
his best jokes received with groans instead of laughter, gave it up in
disgust and retired. The young man cleared the ta