teristically impetuous fashion. Charlie was no diplomat. He
believed in driving straight to any goal he selected.

"So _that's_ the reason for the outward metamorphosis," Stella
reflected. "Well?"

Altogether she enjoyed the afternoon hugely. The only fly in her
ointment was a greasy smudge bestowed upon her dress--a garment she
prized highly--by some cordage coiled on the _Panther's_ deck. The black
tender had carried too many cargoes of loggers and logging supplies to
be a fit conveyance for persons in party attire. She exhibited the
soiled gown to Fyfe with due vexation.

"I hope you'll have somebody scrub down the _Panther_ the next time I
want to go anywhere in a decent dress," she said ruefully. "That'll
never come out. And it's the prettiest thing I've got too."

"Ah, what's the odds?" Fyfe slipped one arm around her waist. "You can
buy more dresses. Did you have a good time? That's the thing!"

That ruined gown, however, subsequently produced an able, forty-foot,
cruising launch, powerfully engined, easy in a sea, and comfortably,
even luxuriously fitted as to cabin. With that for their private use,
the _Panther_ was left to her appointed service, and in the new boat
Fyfe and Stella spent many a day abroad on Roaring Lake. They fished
together, explored nooks and bays up and down its forty miles of length,
climbed hills together like the bear of the ancient rhyme, to see what
they could see. And the _Waterbug_ served to put them on intimate terms
with their neighbors, particularly the Abbey crowd. The Abbeys took to
them wholeheartedly. Fyfe himself was highly esteemed by the elder
Abbey, largely, Stella suspected, for his power on Roaring Lake. Abbey
_pere_ had built up a big fortune out of timber. He respected any man
who could follow the same path to success. Therefore he gave Fyfe double
credit,--for making good, and for a personality that could not be
overlooked. He told Stella that once; that is to say, he told her
confidentially that her husband was a very "able" young man. Abbey
senior was short and double-chinned and inclined to profuse perspiration
if he moved in haste over any extended time. Paul promised to be like
him, in that respect.

Summer slipped by. There were dances, informal little hops at the Abbey
domicile, return engagements at the Fyfe bungalow, laughter and music
and Japanese lanterns strung across the lawn. There was tea and tennis
and murmuring rivers of small talk. And amid thi