he
Atwoods, however, talked enough to make up the deficiency.

As we rose from the table the young lady turned to the lightkeeper.

"Mr. Atwood," she said, "I presume you are going to be kind enough to
take me to Wellmouth?"

"Why, Miss, I--I wan't cal'latin' to. Mr. Paine here, he's got all the
gas he needs now and he'll take you over in his launch."

"Oh! But you will go, if I ask you to?"

"Sartin sure."

"You have been so very kind that I dislike to ask another favor; but
I hoped you would send a telegram for me. My father and mother will be
very much alarmed and I must wire them at once. You will have to send it
'collect,' for," with a rueful smile, "I haven't my purse with me."

"Land sakes! that'll be all right. Glad to help you out."

I put in a word. "It will not be necessary," I said, impatiently. "I
have money enough, Miss Colton."

I was ignored.

"Thank you so much, Mr. Atwood. You will come with me and look out for
the telegram?"

"Yes. Yes--yes. But I don't see what you need to send no telegram for.
Mr. Paine here, he telephoned to your folks last night."

She looked at me and then at Joshua.

"Last night?" she repeated.

"Why yes--or this mornin' after you'd gone to bed. He was dead set on
it. I could see he was 'most tired and wore out, but he wouldn't rest
till he'd 'phoned your folks and told 'em you was safe and sound. Didn't
seem to care nothin' about himself, but he was bound your pa and ma
shouldn't worry."

She turned to me.

"Did you?" she asked.

"Yes," I answered. "Your father is to meet us at the Wellmouth wharf."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I intended to. I meant to tell you when I saw you in the lighthouse,
but--I forgot it."

She said no more, but when Joshua, hat and boots on, met us at the door
she spoke to him.

"You need not go, Mr. Atwood," she said. "It will not be
necessary--now."

"Godfreys! I'd just as soon as not. Ruther, if anything."

He hurried down to the beach. I was about to follow when a hand touched
my arm. I turned, to find a pair of brown eyes, misty but wonderful,
looking into mine.

"Thank you," said Miss Colton.

"Don't mention it."

"But I shall. It was thoughtful and kind. I had forgotten, or--at
least--I took it for granted there was no 'phone here. But you did not
forget. It was thoughtful, but--it was like you."

I was breathing hard. I could not look at her.

"Don't," I said, roughly. "It was nothing. Anyone with common s