anybody there
now, though; it's the time of day when all the men are out teaching, and
the women are visiting the huts to teach the mothers to look after the
kids."

Barry concealed his disappointment and departed for the ship. Little was
silent, too; he was trying to gather up the threads of the connection
between Mrs. Goring, the missing seaman, and the trader. He wasn't sure
the threads led anywhere; but Barry discouraged conversation, and the
volatile ex-salesman could not exist without either talking, surmising,
or planning things. So they arrived in silence at the wharf, and neither
raised his head to notice their whereabouts until Little tumbled over
the _Barang's_ breast line. Then both looked up. Simultaneously they
glanced up at the poop; they darted questioning glances at each other as
Vandersee broke from a group and ran to the rail to meet them, his ruddy
face alight with a redoubled glow.

"Now what has he got to do with Mrs. Goring!" muttered Little. The
wonder was lost on Barry, for that worthy mariner had seen something
which effectually obliterated all thought of Mrs. Goring from his mind.

"It's the little Mission lady!" he breathed reverently, looking past
Mrs. Goring and straight into the sparkling eyes of a very human
looking, merrily smiling girl in plain Mission print. He was abruptly
awakened to the proprieties by Vandersee stepping forward and
introducing him.

"Captain Barry, Mrs. Goring wants you to meet Miss Natalie Sheldon, of
the Mission. You've met Mrs. Goring, I think."

Barry acknowledged the introduction awkwardly; he felt himself flaming
to the roots of his hair, unable to control his tongue or his eyes. For
many days he had dreamed of this moment. Now it was here, he felt he was
making an ass of himself, and that Little was grinning at him for his
clumsy behavior. The amused salesman jogged his ribs and brought him
back to earth. He advanced with extended hand to the smiling young
Mission worker, and in an instant he was transported into a world where
she and he alone mattered; the other people, the ship, the stagnant
stream, all went out of his ken like things that were not.

"How do you do, Captain Barry," the girl greeted him, flushing under his
unwavering gaze, yet amused at it.

"Miss Sheldon, I have wondered if it were possible that you could be
like your picture--and you are," he returned with true sailorly
bluntness. He had no knowledge of the usages of society in suc