small ribs that racked
him whenever he breathed deeply.

"What the devil do you want of a job?"

"You're not thinking that I'm going back on an allowance? I've had
independence for seven years, and I'm going to keep it, Father."

"I've money enough"--brusquely.

"That isn't it. I want to begin somewhere and build something for myself.
You know as well as I do that if I went home on an allowance you'd begin
right off to dominate me as you used to, and no man is going to do that
again."

"What can you do?"

"That's the point--I don't know. I've got to find out."

Cleigh lowered the glass.

"Let's see; didn't you work on a sugar plantation somewhere?"

"Yes. How'd you find that out?"

"Never mind about that. I can give you a job, and it won't be soft,
either. I've a sugar plantation in Hawaii that isn't paying the dividends
it ought to. I'll turn the management over to you. You make good the
second year, or back you come to me, domination and all."

"I agree to that--if the plantation can be developed."

"The stuff is there; all it needs is some pep."

"All right, I'll take the job."

"You and your wife shall spend the fall and winter with me. In February
you can start to work."

"Are you out for Cunningham's hide?"

"What would you do in my place?"

"Sit tight and wait."

Cleigh laughed sardonically.

"Because," went on Dennison, "he's played the game too shrewdly not to
have other cards up his sleeve. He may find his pearls and return the
loot."

"Do you believe that? Don't talk like a fool! I tell you, his pearls are
in those casings there! But, son, I'm glad to have you back. And you've
found a proper mate."

"Isn't she glorious?"

"Better than that. She's the kind that'll always be fussing over you, and
that's the kind a man needs. But mind your eye! Don't take it for granted!
Make her want to fuss over you."

When the oncoming tramp reached a point four hundred yards to the
southwest of the yacht she slued round broadside. For a moment or two the
reversed propeller--to keep the old tub from drifting--threw up a
fountain; and before the sudsy eddies had subsided the longboat began a
jerky descent. No time was going to be wasted evidently.

The _Haarlem_--or whatever name was written on her ticket--was a picture.
Even her shadows tried to desert her as she lifted and wallowed in the
long, burnished rollers. There was something astonishingly impudent about
her. She reminded Dennison of