y, pretty, little women they proved, who thanked Jake with smiles
and profuse bows, much to that old rascal's confusion. They were all
bustle and work. They had the boards down from the windows and had the
doors and windows wide open five minutes after they got ashore.
Morning, noon and night, they were scrubbing, washing, beating,
dusting, polishing and airing, until I was more inquisitive than an old
maid's cat to view the results of their labours. But my sense of
propriety overcame my curiosity, and, for the time being, I remained in
ignorance.

One night, after the little workers had gone back to Vancouver, I was
lying in my bed enjoying Robert Louis Stevenson's "Virginibus
Puerisque," when I fancied I heard the throbbing of a gasoline launch.
I rose and looked out at the open window; but it was one of those
inky-black nights, without either moon or stars, a night when even the
sea became invisible,--so I saw nothing.

When the throbbing ceased, I heard the sound of oars and, as a small
boat evidently neared the shore, there came a sound of voices, both
male and female.

Two trips were made from the launch, one bearing the people, I
presumed, the other conveying their baggage. I had no doubt in my mind
that my new neighbours were arriving, although I might have been
stone-blind so far as anything being visible was concerned.

It was chilly standing there at the window, in the night air, in my
pyjamas. The nights were always chilly at Golden Crescent. So I went
back to bed, determined to wait and see what the morrow would disclose.

My first glance out of doors, early next morning, materialised what I
had a vague notion might have been a dream. There was no sign of any
stir in the house across the little, wooden, rustic bridge that
connected it, over a narrow creek, with the roadway leading to the
store. That was only natural, as, in all probability, the travellers
were journey-weary. But a freshly painted rowing boat, with light
oars, was made fast to the off side of the wharf, while several leather
travelling bags and other packages were piled on the veranda of that
house over the way.

I had shaved, parted my hair at its most becoming angle and dressed
myself with particular care that morning, going to the extent of sewing
a burst seam in my breeches and polishing my leggings; all in
anticipation of a visit from the new arrivals, thinking they would be
almost certain to call at the store that foren