as I
left her in the hall, I had rather imagined she would.

"That didn't amount to anything," I said, shortly.

"Why, yes, it did. It might have amounted to a whole lot. I asked Peters
some questions about the tides out here and, from what he said, I judge
that being stuck on the shoals in a squall might not be altogether a
joke. Mabel says you handled the affair mighty well."

I did not answer. He chuckled.

"How did young Carver enjoy playing second fiddle?" he asked. "From what
I've seen of him he generally expects to lead the band. Happy, was he?"

I remained silent. He smiled broadly.

"He isn't any too happy this morning," he went on. "That young man won't
do. I never quoted him within twenty points of par, but Mabel seemed to
like him and her mother thought he was the real thing. Mrs. C. couldn't
forget that his family is one of the oldest on the list. Personally
I don't gamble much on families; know a little about my own and that
little is enough. But women are different. However, family or not, he
won't do. I should tell him so myself, but I guess Mabel will save me
the trouble. She's got a surprising amount of common-sense, considering
that she's an only child--and who her parents are. By the way, Paine,
what did Carver say when you put him ashore?"

"He--he said--oh, nothing of importance."

"Yes, I know that. I listened to his explanations last night. But did he
say anything?"

"Why, he offered to pay me for my work."

"Did he? How much?"

"I did not wait to find out."

"And you haven't heard from him since?"

I hesitated.

"Have you?" he repeated.

"Well, I--I received a note from him next day."

"Humph! Offering apologies?"

"No."

"Sent you money, didn't he?"

I looked at him in surprise. "Did he tell you?" I asked.

"No, nobody told me. I'm only trying to find out whether or not I have
lost all my judgment of human nature since I struck this sand heap. He
did send you money then. How much?"

"Mr. Colton, I--"

"Come now! How much?"

"Well--he sent me five dollars."

"No! he didn't!"

"I am telling you the truth."

"Yes," slowly, "I know you are. I've got that much judgment left. Sent
you five dollars, did he. And you sent it back."

"Yes."

"Any message with it?"

I was tired of being catechized. I had not meant to tell him anything.
Now I decided to tell him all. If it angered him, so much the better.

"I sent him word that what I saved wasn't worth the money."