a guilty blush.

"I am trying to persuade Mr. Rolfe to take me away with his party," the
girl said. "You know how uneasy I have been here, Mrs. Goring, since you
are so much away."

"Yes, I know, my dear," the woman replied, and her mature face glowed
tenderly. "And unfortunately I cannot avoid being away just now, as you
know." She turned her smile upon Rolfe and Bill Blunt, soothing their
awkwardness with consummate tact. "Take her, gentlemen, won't you?" she
pleaded. "I know it will be all right."

"All right?" echoed Blunt. "Say, marm, d' ye know what we take these
playthings fer?" he asked, handling his pistol and rifle.

"Yes, I know. Still it will be all right. Miss Sheldon will be in no
danger with you that she would avoid here. Besides, Mr. Rolfe, I give
you my word that Mr. Vandersee would approve of it."

"Vandersee?" Rolfe glared from Mrs. Goring to Miss Sheldon.
Slow-thinking as he usually was, he needed no mental jolt now to see
something wonderful and strange in the association of Vandersee with
both of these women, whose apparent interests were so diverse. He had
thought of Vandersee as perhaps likely to be interested in Mrs. Goring's
activities, because he had been on the _Barang's_ quarterdeck when the
big Hollander introduced her to the skipper; but if one thing was more
certain than another, it was that Vandersee had nothing whatever in
common with Leyden, save enmity, and here was a girl avowedly friendly
to Leyden accepting the advice of Vandersee's friend. He squinted at
Miss Sheldon, puzzled, and stammered:

"Would you take Vandersee's advice, Miss? Ain't he dead set against your
friend Leyden?"

"Oh, I don't know what to think about Mr. Vandersee," replied the girl,
in distress again. "I know that he is with and for you, which suggests
his antagonism to Mr. Leyden, who I am sure doesn't know him. But I
know, too, that he is a gentleman, and I am satisfied to trust him on
Mrs. Goring's word. Say I can go with you, please." Her sweet face
clouded, and tears started into her eyes. Gruff old Bill Blunt clapped a
huge hand on her shoulder and growled:

"Dry yer eyes, my pretty, dry 'em, do. We ain't goin' to make gal's eyes
waterfalls, no we ain't--" and he rumbled in an aside to Rolfe, intended
for his ears only, but filling the hut with sound--"Let th' purty gal
come, sir. Blimee, I'll carry her meself, if she tires. It's a bloody
nuisance, but 't ain't a sarcumstance to havin' a paint-an