ng as we're here, it's
best to get along as well as we can. It's no use fretting. If help is
coming it will come. You'll not mend matters by worrying."

She felt he was right. What use were her tears and her irritation? He
was doing all he could. They were in the hands of an inscrutable
Providence. As long as the signal-fire was kept burning there was hope.

CHAPTER XIII.

Slowly the weeks slipped by. The castaways were still in their island
prison with relief as far away, apparently, as ever.

Grace had taken possession of her cabin and made herself as comfortable
as it was possible under the circumstances. The luxuries to which she
had always been accustomed were lamentably lacking. There was no dainty
bathroom for her ablutions, no maid to answer her call, no extensive
wardrobe to select from, no telephone through which she could chat with
friends. But at least she had shelter and a bed to sleep upon, and for
these blessings she was sensible enough to be devoutly thankful.
Armitage had built close by, for his own use, a similar, but less
elaborate, hut, and he took a certain pride in keeping it in order.

One day Grace found some flowers on the table in her cabin. Only one
person could have put them there, and when she realized that fact, it
came rather as a shock to find her strange companion paying her
attentions of this nature.

"Thank you for the flowers," she said, with some embarrassment.

"I thought they'd brighten the place up a bit," he replied awkwardly:

He smiled, and she noticed for the first time that he had fine white
teeth. But nothing more was said, and he went unconcernedly about his
work.

For the remainder of that morning she avoided him. She left her cabin
and fled to Mount Hope, straining her eyes once more in a fruitless
effort to see appear on the horizon the ship which would come to her
rescue.

Monotonous and lonely as was their existence on this remote islet, there
was plenty of work to be done, and the hours sometimes sped by so
quickly that both Grace and Armitage were astonished. The shadows of
night would fall when they had thought it only a little past noon; Each
did a share of the day's work, glad of the occupation that helped to
divert the mind.

The signal-fire on Mount Hope demanded most of Armitage's attention;
When not engaged in gathering fuel, he went on long foraging
expeditions. The problem of procuring food was no light one, and, like
other shipwrecked