e reluctance of the man who
should decline an instant passage of Scalawag Run with the pitiful
appeal. True, it was not inviting--a passage of Scalawag Run in the
wet, gray wind, with night flowing in from the sea.

No matter about that. Elizabeth Luke had departed from Scalawag Harbor
in confusion, leaving no definite answer to the two grave suggestions,
but only a melting appeal for delay, as maids will--for a space of
absence, an interval for reflection, an opportunity to search her
heart and be sure of its decision. If, then, she had communicated that
decision to her mother, according to her promise to communicate it to
somebody, and if the telegram contained news of no more consequence,
a good man might command his patience, might indulge in a reasonable
caution, might hesitate on the brink of Black Cliff with the sanction
of his self-respect. But if Elizabeth Luke lay ill and in need, a
passage of Scalawag Run might be challenged, whatever came of it. And
both Tommy Lark and Sandy Rowl knew it well enough.

Tommy Lark and Sandy Rowl, on the return from Bottom Harbor to
Scalawag Run, had come to Point-o'-Bay Cove, where they were to lie
the night. They were accosted in haste by the telegraph operator.

"Are you men from Scalawag?" she inquired.

She was a brisk, trim young woman from St. John's, new to the
occupation, whose administration of the telegraph office was
determined and exact.

"We is, ma'am," Sandy Rowl replied.

"It's fortunate I caught you," said the young woman, glowing with
satisfaction. "Indeed it is! Are you crossing at once?"

Sandy Rowl smiled.

"We hadn't thought of it, ma'am," said he. "I 'low you don't know much
about Scalawag Run," he added.

The young woman tossed her red head.

"When you _have_ thought of it, and made up both your minds," she
replied tartly, "you might let me know. It is a matter of some
importance."

"Ay, ma'am."

By this time Tommy Lark had connected the telegraph operator's concern
with the rare emergency of a message.

"What you so eager t' know for?" he inquired.

"I've a dispatch to send across."

"Not a telegram!"

"It is."

"Somebody in trouble?"

"As to that," the young woman replied, "I'm not permitted to say. It's
a secret of the office."

"Is you permitted t' tell who the telegram is from?"

The young woman opened her eyes. This was astonishing simplicity.
Permitted to tell who the telegram was from!

"I should think not!" she decl