e year just passed than he had ever spent in any one
of the preceding nine years, and those weeks had held many startling
revelations for him. When he left her to resume command of his ship, his
mind was in a more or less chaotic state trying to grasp an entirely new
order of things, for this time he was leaving behind him a young lady of
fifteen who, so it seemed to the perplexed man, had jumped over at least
five years as easily as an athlete springs across a hurdle, leaving the
little girl upon the other side forever. When Neil Stewart awakened to
this fact he was first dazed, and then overwhelmed by the sense of his
obligations overlooked for so long, and, being possessed of a lively
sense of duty, he strove to correct the oversight.

Had he not been in such deadly earnest his efforts to make reparation
for what he considered his inexcusable short-sightedness and neglect,
would have been funny, for, like most men when confronted by some
problem involving femininity, he was utterly at a loss how to set about
"his job" as he termed it.

As a matter of fact, a kind fate had taken "his job" in hand for him
some time before, and was in a fair way to turn out a pretty good one
too. But Neil Stewart made up his mind to boost Old Lady Fate along a
little, and his attempts at so doing came pretty near upsetting her
equilibrium; she was not inclined to be hustled, and Neil Stewart was
nothing if not a hustler, once he got under way.

And so, alack! by one little move he completely changed Peggy's future
and for a time rendered the present a veritable storm center, as will be
seen.

But we will let events tell their own story.

Old Jerome moved about the sunny breakfast-room; at least it would have
been sunny had not soft-tinted awnings and East-Indian screens, shut out
the sun's glare and suffused the room in a restful coolness and calm, in
marked contrast to the vivid light beyond the windows.

Jerome himself was refreshing to look upon. The old colored man was
quite seventy years of age, but still an erect and dignified major-domo.
From his white, wool-fringed old head, to the toes of his white canvas
shoes, he was immaculate. No linen could have been more faultlessly
laundered than Jerome's; no serviette more neatly folded. All was in
harmony excepting the old man's face; that was troubled. A perplexed
pucker contracted his forehead as he spoke softly to himself.

"'Taint going to do _no_ how! It sure ain't. She ain