nted either to cure or kill the enemy.
Outside, a mocking bird, perched provokingly near her window, kept the
night ringing with music. Resolutely she closed her ears to his song.
But presently, through the faint fragrance of oleanders, other sounds
began to penetrate,--the strains of the waltz to which they had danced
only the night before. The little art teacher turned wearily over and
cried herself to sleep.

On the morning which followed she rose very early, however, much too
early to breakfast with Blair at the little table in the sunny corner.
Instead, she ordered some coffee and toast at Jim's Waffle Shop in
the village and was hard at work sketching on the wharf before eight
o'clock. She had suddenly remembered a promise to sketch Capt. Warren's
dog holding the gaff, a feat of which both Pal and his master were
justifiably proud. Indeed, so long had the arrangement been made and so
entirely had it been neglected, that no one was more surprised than the
Captain himself at her unexpected appearance.

"But Pal and me ought to be at the Tuna Club in fifteen minutes, to take
a party o' members out fishin'," he demurred. "You can't paint Pal in no
quarter of an hour!"

"I'm sorry to have had to put it off so long," replied Miss Hastings
crisply, "but I'm planning to go home in a few days now,--this afternoon
probably. It's the only chance I shall have." And she prepared to make
good the belated promise with such determination that, after a wistful
glance or two across the slapping white caps, the old skipper meekly
succumbed.

It was here Blair found her an hour or so later. Unceremoniously he
placed himself in front of her, his hands in his pockets, and gave vent
to a low whistle.

"Well, of all the--!"

"Oh, is it you, Mr. Blair?" she inquired in cool, sweet tones. "I
thought most probably you'd gone! Didn't you say yesterday you intended
to as soon as you'd seen the cavern?" Then, after a pause during which
Blair said nothing, "I've been getting dreadfully behind with my own
work, so I thought, if you didn't mind, I'd try to catch up a little
this morning."

"Certainly not. Take all the time you want! We've about finished anyway,
I guess." His coolness matched her own.

Another silence during which she painted furiously.

"I'm making a sketch of Pal holding the gaff," she ventured at length
when the strain had become too uncomfortable.

"So I see."

This second tentative effort at conversation having