alking-dress," he said, handing her a lump weighing
about a pound. "With the balance in the heap there you can stagger the
best-dressed woman you meet at your first dinner in England."

"Do you mean by pelting her?" she inquired, mischievously.

"Far worse. By wearing a more expensive costume."

His manner was so earnest that he compelled seriousness. Iris took the
proffered specimen and looked at it.

"From the cave, I suppose? I thought you said antimony was not very
valuable?"

"That is not antimony. It is gold. By chance I have hit upon an
extremely rich lode of gold. At the most modest computation it is worth
hundreds of thousands of pounds. You and I are quite wealthy people,
Miss Deane."

Iris opened her blue eyes very wide at this intelligence. It took her
breath away. But her first words betokened her innate sense of fair
dealing.

"You and I! Wealthy!" she gasped. "I am so glad for your sake, but tell
me, pray, Mr. Jenks, what have _I_ got to do with it?"

"You!" he repeated. "Are we not partners in this island? By squatter's
right, if by no better title, we own land, minerals, wood, game, and
even such weird belongings as ancient lights and fishing privileges."

"I don't see that at all. You find a gold mine, and coolly tell me that
I am a half owner of it because you dragged me out of the sea, fed me,
housed me, saved my life from pirates, and generally acted like a
devoted nursemaid in charge of a baby. Really, Mr. Jenks--"

"Really, Miss Deane, you will annoy me seriously if you say another
word. I absolutely refuse to listen to such an argument."

Her outrageously unbusiness-like utterances, treading fast on the heels
of his own melodramatic and written views concerning their property,
nettled him greatly. Each downright syllable was a sting to his
conscience, but of this Iris was blissfully unaware, else she would not
have applied caustic to the rankling wound caused by his momentary
distrust of her.

For some time they stood in silence, until the sailor commenced to
reproach himself for his rough protest. Perhaps he had hurt her
sensitive feelings. What a brute he was, to be sure! She was only a
child in ordinary affairs, and he ought to have explained things more
lucidly and with greater command over his temper. And all this time
Iris's face was dimpling with amusement, for she understood him so well
that had he threatened to kill her she would have laughed at him.

"Would you mind gett