flush, and her eyes suddenly fill with tears.

"Bob!" she whispered half-aloud. "Bob!"

Zenas Henry drew her closer.

"What does the girl want with money," he demanded, "when she's got a
man like that? He's better than all the money on earth."

"But she'll get the money just the same, Zenas Henry," piped Captain
Jonas. "She'll get it. Have you thought of that?"

"It will be Bob's money, not mine," returned Delight with shy dignity.

CHAPTER XXIII

FAME COMES TO THE DREAMER OF DREAMS

Richard Galbraith returned thoughtfully over the Harbor Road not sorry
at the turn affairs had taken. The honorable and magnanimous thing had
been done with the Lee fortune, and it had been firmly and proudly
refused. Now it could go unreservedly to Robert Morton for whom the
financier had a particular regard and in whose wisdom to make a
sensible use of it he felt every confidence. The money would not only
place the young man in a position to marry without delay, but
indirectly its benefits would reach the two individuals that Madam Lee
would most earnestly have desired to help. Nor did the capitalist's
regard for Delight, which had steadily been growing, decrease when
viewed from this new angle. The Lees were a proud race and the girl
came justly by the attribute. He was not sure, now that he reflected
on the matter, but that he himself would have scorned the legacy in the
same high-handed fashion. Nevertheless he had not expected this
termination of the interview, had not expected it at all. His recently
acquired relatives were proving themselves interesting persons. Who
would have dreamed that a penniless fisherman's daughter would have
tossed the Lee ducats back into his face?

He laughed to himself when he thought of the paradox. He had always
admired spirit in a woman.

The car rolled on, flashing past swamps of swaying iris bedded deep in
the salt marsh-grass, past tangles of fragrant honeysuckle and garlands
of clinging clematis, and presently shot out into the sunny stretch of
road that like a white ribbon bound the blue waters of the bay. When
it reached the bluff where the sand mounted into green-capped dunes,
patched in their hollows with shadows of violet, it slowed down and
came to a stop before Willie Spence's weathered cottage.

The old inventor and Bob were seated idly on the workshop steps. No
longer did the vibrant hammer and purring plane blend their metallic
notes with the music of th