ed
the money as I could. This is simply a question between Mr. Collingsby
and me. When he wishes to dissolve, I'm ready."

"May I ask what you are doing over here, with such a heavy transaction
on your hands?"

"On my way to buy the lumber. I have the money in my bag," said he,
holding up the article.

"Do you happen to have a package in your bag with my name upon it,
taken from the safe?"

"I have; and I happen to have also an order from my mother for you to
deliver it to me."

"Indeed."

"Here it is," he added, handing me a crumpled paper.

It certainly was an order, setting forth that all differences between
Mrs. Whippleton and her son had been settled, and requiring me to give
him the papers.

"When I was ready to go, I could not find you; so I took the papers;
but you have the order now, and I hope you are satisfied on that
point."

I was not exactly satisfied; but I felt that Mr. Whippleton was arguing
me down, if he was not convincing me.

"How about those invoices?" I continued. "The agent of the Michigan
Pine Company says he sold you no such lumber."

"If he will tell me so to my face, I should like to have him do it. I
will give him an opportunity to-morrow."

Mr. Whippleton was indignant. He talked honest, and I could not gainsay
him. I was almost inclined to believe that I was a fool, and had made a
blunder; but as he was willing to go to Chicago, I was satisfied to
leave the adjustment of the whole matter to Mr. Collingsby. We went on
deck, and as there was a little breeze, we tripped the anchor, and
stood up the lagoon. I was bewildered; but my heaviest catastrophe was
yet to come.

CHAPTER XXIII.

IN WHICH PHIL, IN THE MARIAN, GETS THE WEATHER-GAGE OF THE FLORINA.

There was scarcely a breath of wind when we weighed anchor. Mr.
Whippleton insisted upon running up to the Florina, in order to leave
his tender, and to obtain certain articles he had left on board. The
breeze entirely failed before we had made half the distance, and we
were obliged to anchor again to prevent being drifted ashore. Mr.
Whippleton and old Peter took both the tenders, and visited the
Florina, leaving Marian and myself alone again.

"I am so thankful that you had no quarrel," said she, as we sat
together in the standing-room, watching the receding boats.

"So am I, Marian."

"And it seems that you were mistaken in regard to his accounts."

"I don't think I was," I replied, rather warmly. "I am per