"Oho, you want to have fun with him, eh? That's the way the wind blows,
is it? I'll just tell Mr. Veath that you pray night and day, and that
you don't like to be disturbed. What do you suppose he'd be if he
interrupted a woman's prayers?" demanded he, glaring at her half
jealously.

"He'd be a heathen and I should have to enlighten him," she answered
sweetly.

Just then Mr. Veath entered the saloon and took a seat beside her. She
looked surprised, as did Mr. Ridgeway. They looked to the far end of the
table and saw that Veath's original chair was occupied by another man.

"I traded seats with that fellow," murmured Veath, a trifle red about
the ears. Miss Vernon's face assumed a stony expression for an instant,
but the gleam of pure frankness in his eyes dispelled her momentary
disapproval. "You don't mind, do you?" he asked hastily.

"Not at all, Mr. Veath," she said, forgetting that a moment before she
had considered him presumptuous. "On the contrary, I think it is so much
nicer to have you on this side of the table. We can talk without having
everybody in the room hear us."

"I have just heard that we are bound for the same destination and we can
certainly speculate among ourselves as to the outcome of our individual
and collective pilgrimages. We can talk about shipwrecks, pirates,
simoons, cholera, sea serpents--"

"And the heathen," said Hugh maliciously, but not looking up from his
plate.

"Ahem!" coughed loyal Mr. Veath.

"Are there any heathen over there?" asked Miss Vernon very innocently
but also very maliciously. She smiled at Hugh, who leaned far back in
his chair and winked solemnly at the bewildered Veath. That gentleman,
manlike, interpreted Hugh's wink as the means of conveying the
information that the tactful young lady asked the question merely to
throw him off the scent. So he answered very politely but very
carefully.

"I hear there are more missionaries than heathen."

"Indeed? Don't you think that the women who go out as missionaries among
those vile creatures are perfect idiots, Mr. Veath?"

"Well,--ahem, ah," stammered Veath, "I can't say that I do. I think, if
you will permit me to disagree with you, that they are the noblest
women in the world."

"Excellent sentiment, Veath," said the merry Ridgeway, "and quite worthy
of endorsement by this misguided sister of mine. She despises the
heathen, you know."

"Oh, I am sure she does not despise them," cried Veath.

"But I do