warn you."

"It is kind of you," said Brady, "to lay the accusation of stupidity
so far off; but, wherever it lies, the results are the same, and we
are in a bad way."

"What can we find to wipe these things off with?" the good Samaritan
asked, making common cause in the misfortune.

"Nothing," answered Flint, with extravagant gloom, striving as he
spoke to cleanse his shoes by rubbing them against the grass-grown
bank.

The girl put her finger to her lips,--a characteristic gesture when
she was puzzled. Then, unfastening her basket with sudden energy, she
exclaimed: "Why won't this do? Here is some sea-moss which I was
taking to an old woman who lives a little further down the road. She
makes some stuff which she calls farina out of it, and grieves
bitterly that she is no longer young and spry enough to gather it for
herself along the shore. My basket is full of this moss, and if we
could wet it in the brook down yonder, we might sponge off the things
with it, and then dry them with big leaves, backed up by those
newspapers which I see you have in your parcel of mail."

"What a clever notion!" Brady said, as he plunged down to the brook,
and came up again with the dripping moss. He and the Samaritan
scrubbed merrily away, while Flint stood by with an uncomfortable
sense that he was out of it all, and that no one but himself knew or
cared.

When comparative cleanliness was restored, and the bundles returned to
the bottom of the wagon, the girl scrambled down to the brook, and,
pushing back her wide cuffs, knelt by the water, where she washed the
traces of sticky substance from her long slender fingers.

"You have relieved us from a very awkward situation," said Flint, as
she rose; "but your basket of moss is spoiled and your long walk
rendered futile. Surely you will permit us at least to drive you
home."

"Thank you, no. Mrs. Davitt will like to talk a while, and to know
that I have not forgotten her and her farina. So I will bid you 'good
afternoon.'"

"That is the most charming girl I ever met," observed Brady, as he
stood watching her disappear around the turn of the road.

"Did you ever meet one who was not?" asked Flint.

"The way she took hold was magnificent," continued Brady, unmoved by
his companion's raillery. "And then when it was all over she was so
unself-conscious; and the best of all was her politeness in never
laughing at us, for really, you know, we must have looked rather
ridiculous, s