end of a narrow float that ran from the
sea wall. The boy in the jersey sprang out, reached a steadying hand to
his employer. The girl stepped lightly to the planked logs.

"Give the boy a lift on that boat to the _chuck_, will you?" the stout
person made further request, indicating the white boat bottom up on
shore.

A queer expression gleamed momentarily in the eyes of the boatman. But
it passed. He did not speak, but made for the dinghy, followed by the
hand from the yacht. They turned the boat over, slid it down and afloat.
The sailor got in and began to ship his oars.

The man and the girl stood by till this was done. Then the girl turned
away. The man extended his hand.

"Thanks," he said curtly.

The other's hand had involuntarily moved. The short, stout man dropped a
silver dollar in it, swung on his heel and followed his
daughter,--passed her, in fact, for she had only taken a step or two and
halted.

The young fellow eyed the silver coin in his hand with an expression
that passed from astonishment to anger and broke at last into a smile of
sheer amusement. He jiggled the coin, staring at it thoughtfully. Then
he faced about on the jerseyed youth about to dip his blades.

"Smith," he said, "I suppose if I heaved this silver dollar out into the
_chuck_ you'd think I was crazy."

The youth only stared at him.

"You don't object to tips, do you, Smith?" the man in the mackinaw
inquired.

"Gee, no," the boy observed. "Ain't you got no use for money?"

"Not this kind. You take it and buy smokes."

He flipped the dollar into the dinghy. It fell clinking on the slatted
floor and the youth salvaged it, looked it over, put it in his pocket.

"Gee," he said. "Any time a guy hands me money, I keep it, believe me."

His gaze rested curiously on the man with the patch over his eye. His
familiar grin faded. He touched his cap.

"Thank y', sir."

He heaved on his oars. The boat slid out. The man stood watching, hands
deep in his pockets. A displeased look replaced the amused smile as his
glance rested a second on the rich man's toy of polished mahogany and
shining brass. Then he turned to look again at the house up the slope
and found the girl at his elbow.

He did not know if she had overheard him, and he did not at the moment
care. He met her glance with one as impersonal as her own.

"I'm afraid I must apologize for my father," she said simply. "I hope
you aren't offended. It was awfully good of you