around the
wharf-end, and so her roaming eyes were led to another craft drawing
near. This might be her brother's vessel. She went back to the outer
landing to see.

Two men manned this boat. As she ranged alongside the piles, one stood
forward, and the other aft with lines to make fast. She cast a look at
each. They were prototypes of the rude crew but now departed,
brown-faced, flannel-shirted, shod with calked boots, unshaven for days,
typical men of the woods. But as she turned to go, the man forward and
almost directly below her looked her full in the face.

"Stell!"

She leaned over the rail.

"Charlie Benton--for Heaven's sake."

They stared at each other.

"Well," he laughed at last. "If it were not for your mouth and eyes,
Stell, I wouldn't have known you. Why, you're all grown up."

He clambered to the wharf level and kissed her. The rough stubble of his
beard pricked her tender skin and she drew back.

"My word, Charlie, you certainly ought to shave," she observed with
sisterly frankness. "I didn't know you until you spoke. I'm awfully glad
to see you, but you do need _some one_ to look after you."

Benton laughed tolerantly.

"Perhaps. But, my dear girl, a fellow doesn't get anywhere on his
appearance in this country. When a fellow's bucking big timber, he
shucks off a lot of things he used to think were quite essential. By
Jove, you're a picture, Stell. If I hadn't been expecting to see you, I
wouldn't have known you."

"I doubt if I should have known you either," she returned drily.

CHAPTER II

MR. ABBEY ARRIVES

Stella accompanied her brother to the store, where he gave an order for
sundry goods. Then they went to the hotel to see if her trunks had
arrived. Within a few yards of the fence which enclosed the grounds of
St. Allwoods a man hailed Benton, and drew him a few steps aside. Stella
walked slowly on, and presently her brother joined her.

The baggage wagon had brought the trunks, and when she had paid her
bill, they were delivered at the outer wharf-end, where also arrived at
about the same time a miscellaneous assortment of supplies from the
store and a Japanese with her two handbags. So far as Miss Estella
Benton could see, she was about to embark on the last stage of her
journey.

"How soon will you start?" she inquired, when the last of the stuff was
stowed aboard the little steamer.

"Twenty minutes or so," Benton answered. "Say," he went on casually,
"have you