f time. No signs of
discouragement, of weariness or worry had gained a footing. There were
no visible traces of unwelcome experience. While distinctly a thoughtful
face, good-humor and a tranquil spirit were the two things most clearly
written. His eyes were gray--frank, honest, mirthful, with little
wrinkles at the corners when he smiled.

After many questions had been asked and answered, the more pretentious
gentleman laid a hand affectionately on the other's arm, and said:

"But what has happened to you, Pats? How thin you are! You look like a
ghost--a mahogany ghost."

"Fever. A splendid case of South African fever."

"Too bad! Are you well over it?"

"Yes, over the fever; but still tottery. My strength has not come home
yet. And the lead was a set back."

"You mean bullets?"

"Yes. I caught two, but they are both out. I am getting along all right
now."

"And you have just reached America?"

"Landed in New York yesterday; got here this morning at half-past seven,
found my family were up on the St. Lawrence, and here I am. But what are
you doing on this boat?"

"Oh, I just came down to see somebody off."

An excess of indifference in the manner of this reply did not escape the
friend from Africa. With a sidelong glance at his companion, he said, "A
man, of course."

"How clever you are, Pats!"

"No need of being clever, Billy, when you advertise your secret by
blushing like a girl of fifteen."

"Blush! I, blush! How old do you think I am? Ten?"

"Yes all of that. But if you didn't actually blush, old man, you did
look foolish. And this explains a state-room full of flowers that I
noticed. Is that _her_ bower?"

"I think so."

"Well, who is she, Billy? You might as well tell me, for I shall be sure
to discover if she goes on this boat."

"Elinor Marshall."

"Elinor Marshall? Why, that name is familiar. Where have I heard it?"

"She is a friend of your sisters."

"Of course!"

"And she is going to your place now, on a visit."

"Good! I'll cut you out. Is she fond of bones?"

Mr. William Townsend did not answer, but he looked at his watch. "She
ought to be here now. The boat sails at ten-thirty, doesn't it?"

"Yes."

"It's ten, now. I shall trot you up as soon as she arrives."

"Thanks. You will excuse my asking a cruel question, old man, but you
certainly did not send _all_ the flowers in that cabin?"

"Oh, no!"

"Then there are other--appreciators?"

"Yes."

Mr. Patrick Boyd