nything to prove his
gratitude. It's up to him to prove it to-day. I sent him a long telegram
from Sandy Hook, and, by the by, mentioned you and the Honble Captain
Winston."

Jack is attacked with acute goosefleshitis whenever she calls him that,
but I think it's pathetic, she relishes the word "Honourable" so much,
and makes it sound round and fat in her mouth like a big chocolate
cream. Of course, Jack and I are quite _nobodies_; but it did occur to
me when in the same breath she said, "Ed would do anything," etc., and
"I mentioned you," that Mr. Caspian might know about Jack's father; and
that he might find it better worth while bothering to meet Lord
Brighthelmston's son than merely to prove his gratitude to a
benefactress no longer needed.

Well, anyhow, the not very good ship _Evangeline_ steamed slowly to her
wharf at an early hour of the morning, and Patsey Moore and Mrs. Shuster
were two of the most excited people on board. Jack and I expected no one
to meet us, because purposely we had let no one know. So we were not
desperately emotional for our own sakes. But we were for Pat's.

"In a minute we'll see Larry!" she kept exclaiming. And her cheeks were
like roses and her eyes like sapphires--literally, sapphires.

We all gazed at the welcoming, waving crowd; but as the mass
individualized into faces, male and female, there was nothing admirable
enough for Larry. Pat gave up hope almost as willingly as a lioness in
the Zoo would give up her food at half-past feeding time. But at last
she had to bow to the inevitable. Larry had not materialized. She was in
"M" and we were in "W," so we couldn't do as much for her as we should
have liked, and for a while had to leave her to the tender mercies of
her maid. It was a relief to my mind, therefore, when I saw Mrs. Shuster
introducing a man--Mr. Caspian I had no doubt--to the girl. Hurrying
back to "S," she saw me peering out from "W" and flew to me,
breathless.

"He came, you see!" she panted. "Dear fellow! He's just the same. Not
one bit spoilt. But oh, what _do_ you think he's told me--about Miss
Moore's father?"

"Not dead?" I breathed.

"Worse!" She stopped to pant some more. I could have shaken her.

"Don't keep me in suspense," I begged. But the lady's eyes had lit upon
her protege. "There's Peter Storm!" she exclaimed. "I've been watching
for him. I was afraid he might get away without seeing me."

He certainly was in the act of getting away, though I