hear?"

"Yes, sir," said I, and because I knew we were going to part and there
would be nobody else to advise me in the same way, I went on in a great
hurry for fear there should not be time. "I can't live at home even
after we come back. I could never be pointed at, like Aunt Elizabeth,
and have people whisper and say I've had a disappointment. I must make
my own life. I must have a profession. Do you think I could teach? Do
you think I could learn to teach--psychology?"

He didn't answer for a long time, and I didn't dare look at him, though
the moon was so bright now that I could see how white his hand was,
lying on his knee, and the chasing of the ring on his little finger. It
had been his mother's engagement ring, he told me once. But he spoke,
and very gently and seriously. "I am sure you could teach some things.
Whether psychology--but we can talk of that later. There'll be lots of
time. It proves I am going over on the same steamer with Charlie Ned and
Lorraine and you."

"You are!" I cried. "Why, I never heard of anything so--" I couldn't
find the word for it, but everything stopped being puzzling and unhappy
and looked clear and plain.

"Yes," said he. "It's very convenient, isn't it? We can talk over your
future, and you could even take a lesson or two in psychology. But I
fancy we shall have a good deal to do looking for porpoises and asking
what the run is. People are terribly busy at sea."

Then it occurred to me that he had never been here before, and why was
he here now? "How did you happen to come?" I asked. I suppose I really
felt as if God sent him.

"Why," said he, "why--" Then he laughed. "Well," said he, "to tell the
truth, I was going abroad if--if certain things happened, and I needed
to make sure. I didn't want to write, so I ran down to see Charlie Ned."

"But could he tell you?" said I. "And had they happened?"

He laughed, as if at something I needn't share. "No," he said, "the
things weren't going to happen. But I decided to go abroad."

I was "curiouser and curiouser," as Lorraine says.

"But," I insisted, "what had Charles Edward to do with it?"

There were a great many pauses that night as if, I think, he didn't
know what was wise to say. I should imagine it would always be so with
psychologists. They understand so well what effect every word will have.

"Well, to tell the truth," he answered, at last, in a kind, darling way,
"I wanted to make sure all was well with my favori