w office, to discuss fittings and furniture.
Nuncey had dropped into the habit, since the days began to lengthen, of
crossing the ferry after tea-time.

Hester decided to walk as far as the Passage Slip, on the chance of
meeting her. Somewhat to her surprise, as she passed Broad Quay she
almost ran into Master Calvin Rosewarne, idling there with his hands in
his pockets, and apparently at a loose end.

"Calvin! Why, whatever are you doing here, on this side of the water?"

The boy--he had not the manners to take off his cap--eyed her for a moment
with an air half suspicious and half defiant. "That's telling," he
answered darkly, and added, after a pause, "Were you looking for anyone?"

"I was hoping to meet Nuncey Benny. She has gone across to her father's
new office--or so Mrs. Benny thinks."

The boy grinned. "She won't be coming this way just yet, and she's not at
the new office. But I'll tell you where to find her, if you'll let me
come along with you."

On their way to the ferry he looked up once or twice askance at her, as if
half-minded to speak; but it was not until old Daddo had landed them on
the farther shore that he seemed to find his tongue.

"Look here," he said abruptly, halting in the roadway, and regarding her
from under lowering brows; "the last time you took me in lessons you told
me to think less of myself and more of other people. Didn't you, now?"

"Well?" said Hester, preoccupied, dimly remembering that talk.

"Well, you seemed to forget your own teaching pretty easily when you
walked out of Hall and left me there on the stream. Nice company you left
me to, didn't you?"

"Your father,"--began Hester lamely.

"We won't talk of Dad. He's altered--I don't know how. I can't get on
with him, though he's the only person hereabouts that don't hate me;
I'll give him _that_ credit. But I ask you, wasn't it pretty rough on a
chap to haul him over the coals for selfishness, and then march out and
leave him without another thought? And that's what you did."

"I am sorry." Hester's conscience accused her, and she was contrite.
The child must have found life desperately dull.

"I forgive you," said Master Calvin, magnanimously, and resumed his walk.
"I forgive you on condition you'll do a small job for me. When Myra turns
up again--and sooner or later she'll turn up--I want you to give her a
message."

"Very well; but why not give it yourself?"

"She don't speak to me, you know,"