"Not a thing but me table-linen, sor, and that's the Lord's truth ef I was to die fur it!" said the woman whose heart it would "rej'ice to lie to a vilyan like that." "Come on," said Harcourt, drawing Bess back, "we'd better get out of this. You and I can't compete with _her_. We are not in her class! I'll buy you an umbrella if you need it." Of course they stopped at the locks the first thing. Everybody does. It was while they were standing there that he said in a low voice, "Look over to the other side. That's Smeltzer, rushing post-haste for the station--and the train has just gone." "Oh, has it?" "Yes. And there isn't another till morning. I have just enquired. That will give her twelve or fifteen hours the start." "She can't get off the island to-night, can she?" "No, but she won't lose much time in the morning, I'll wager." It is a most fascinating occupation--watching the locks at the "Soo." There is always the temptation to stay for one more performance,--and they come thick and fast on this famous ship canal. They stayed till the throes of hunger sent them across the park to the hotel. She stood beside him as he registered, but when he caught her eye and laughed afterwards she did not respond very heartily. "Being on the water has made me awfully sleepy," she said at the dinner table. "I think I shall write a letter to grandma and go to bed." "You will get there as soon as the letter will." "No. If it goes down in the morning it will get there by noon. That will be some help." "It is moonlight," he pleaded. "Let's go over to the locks for an hour or so." "No, I'm sleepy. I'm going to bed." It was easy to see that he had in some way offended her. He went out alone after she had gone to her room and walked up and down the sidewalk between the park and the locks. The place was most beautiful by moonlight, but he was not thinking much about its beauty or its wonders. His mind was dwelling on the strangeness of their position, on Bess's sweet childish womanliness, but most of all on Margaret and what she would do next. How glad he would be if he were only able to dispel the shadow that had fallen upon her. The next morning as they stood beside the locks where they had agreed to stay until the boat went, Bess asked abruptly, "Why did you write our names on the hotel register 'John Harcourt and sister?' I didn't like that very well, because--it seemed as if I--as if we--had done something you were ashamed of." Her lips were in a pretty childish pout. He placed his hand on his heart with a gesture of exaggerated sentiment. "I did that because I wanted to make sure of your bearing my name at least once in your life. You know you told me the other day you intended to be an old maid, so this was the only way." "Silly!" she said, blushing and looking away. When they got back to Mackinac that night Bess found a room bearing evidence of hasty packing and a letter from her grandmother.