und my shoulder and her cheek against mine, in her
old coaxing way.

Dear little woman! It was a shame to have worried her as Joe and I had
done.

"Well, Rita," I laughed, "I promise you I won't fight if Joe won't.
And, anyway,--Joe is not likely to seek another encounter till his arm
and ribs are well; and that will take six weeks all told. So don't
worry yourself any more about what is going to happen six weeks hence."

As Rita started out for home, I rose to accompany her to the boat.

"No, no!" she cried. "Why!--you are under doctor's orders."

"I have to work to-morrow, Rita, so I might as well try myself out now,
as later."

I was shaky at the knees, but, with Rita's arm round my waist, I
managed to make the journey with little trouble.

As we got to her boat, Rita pouted.

"What's the matter now, little maid?" I asked.

"I don't think you like me any more, George,--after bringing this on
you. And we've been pretty good pals too, you and I."

Her eyes commenced to fill.

"Why, foolish! Of course, we have been good pals and we are going to
stay good pals right to the end; no matter what happens."

"Sure?" she asked, taking an upward, sidelong glance at me.

"Sure as that," I exclaimed. I put my hands round her trim waist, and,
weak as I was, I lifted her up from the ground and kissed her laughing
mouth.

She struggled free, jumped into the boat and rowed away, with a laugh
and a blown kiss to me from her finger tips.

As I turned, I cast my eyes up along the wharf.

A figure was standing there, motionless, as if hewn in stone.

It was Mary Grant.

Her hands were pressed flat against her bosom as if she were trying to
stifle something that should not have been there. Her face wore a
strange coldness that I had never seen in it before.

I could not understand why it should be so,--unless,--unless she had
misconstrued the good-bye of Rita and me. But, surely,--surely not!

Slowly and laboriously, I made in her direction, but she sped away
swiftly down the wharf, across the rustic bridge and into her cottage,
closing the door behind her quickly.

As I sat by the fireside, thinking over what possibly could have caused
Mary to behave so, something spoke to me again and again, saying:--

"Go over and find out. Go over and find out."

But I did not obey. My conscience felt clear of all wrong intent and I
decided it would be better to wait till morning, when I would be more
fit for the