get material for his book? Well, that's what he's
doing. Must be, because there are only Indians up there."

"Indians? What do you mean--Indians? Wild ones?"

"Fairly wild."

Aunt Caroline snorted. She is one of the few ladies left who possess
this Victorian, accomplishment. "And you advise my leaving my sister's
child in his present precarious state of mind alone among fairly wild
Indians?"

"Well--er--that's just it, you see. He isn't alone--not exactly."

"What do you mean--not exactly?"

"I mean that his--er--secretary is with him. He has to have a secretary
on account of never being sure whether receive is 'ie' or 'ei.' They
are quite all right, though. The captain of the boat says so. And
naturally on a trip of that kind, research you know, a man doesn't like
to be interrupted."

Aunt Caroline arose. "When does the next boat leave?" She asked calmly.

"But--dash it all! We're not invited. We can't butt in. I--I won't go."

Aunt Caroline, admirable woman, knew when she was defeated. She had a
formula for it, a formula which seldom failed to turn defeat into
victory. When all else failed, Aunt Caroline collapsed. She collapsed
now. She had borne a great deal, she had not complained, but to be told
that her presence would be a "butting in" upon the only living child of
her only dead sister was more than even her fortitude could endure! No,
she wouldn't take a glass of water, water would choke her. No, she
wouldn't lie down. No, she wouldn't lower her voice. What did hotel
people matter to her? What did anything matter? She had come to the
end. Accustomed to ingratitude as she was, hardened to injustice and
desertion, there were still limits--

There were. The doctor had reached his. Hastily he explained that she
had mistaken his meaning. And, to prove it, engaged passage at once,
for the next upcoast trip, on the same little steamer which a few days
earlier had carried Mr. and Mrs. Benis H. Spence.

It was a heavenly day. The mountains lifted them-selves out of veils of
tinted mist, the islands lay like jewels--but Aunt Caroline, impervious
to mere scenery, turned her thought severely inward.

"I suppose," she said to her now subdued escort, "that we shall have to
pay the secretary a month's salary. Benis will scarcely wish to take
him back east with us."

The doctor attempted to answer but seemed to have some trouble with his
throat.

"It's the damp air," said Aunt Caroline. "Have a troche. If Benis