"How can he make her know?"

"Let her see him--now. She has never seen him as he was in New York
with us, sure of himself, knowing that he has found the thing that he
can do. He was beautiful with that radiant boy-look. You know he was,
Mark, wasn't he?"

"Yes, my darling, yes."

"And I want him to be happy, don't you?"

"Of course, dear heart."

"Then get him on the 'phone. I'll do the rest."

IV

Randy, in New York, acclaimed by a crowd of enthusiasts who had read
his story as a gold nugget picked up from a desert of literary
mediocrity. Randy, not knowing himself. Randy, modest beyond belief.
Randy, in his hotel at midnight walking the floor with his head held
high, and saying to himself, "I've done it."

It seemed to him that, of course, it could not be true. The young
editor who had eyed him through shell-rimmed glasses had said, "There's
going to be a lot of hard work ahead--to keep up to this----"

Randy, in his room, laughed at the thought of work. What did hardness
matter? The thing that really mattered was that he had treasure to lay
at the feet of Becky.

He sat down at the desk to write to her, cheeks flushed, eyes bright, a
hand that shook with excitement.

"I am to meet a lot of big fellows to-morrow--I shall feel like an ugly
duckling among the swans--oh, the _swans_, Becky, did we ever think
that the Trumpeter in his old glass case----"

The telephone rang. Randy, answering it, found Madge at the other end.
There was an exchange of eager question and eager answer.

Then Randy hung up the receiver, tore up his note to Becky, asked the
office about trains, packed his bag, and went swift in a taxi to the
station.

It was not until he was safe in his sleeper, and racketing through the
night, that he remembered the meeting with the literary swans and the
editor with the shell-rimmed glasses. A telegram would convey his
regrets. He was sorry that he could not meet them, but he had on hand
a more important matter.

CHAPTER XVI

THE CONQUEROR

I

If Randy's train had not missed a connection, he would have caught the
same boat that took the Admiral and his party back to the island. They
motored down to Wood's Hole, and boarded the _Sankaty_, while Randy,
stranded at New Bedford, was told there would not be another steamer out
until the next day.

The Admiral was the only gay and apparently care-free member of his
quartette. Becky felt unaccountably depressed.