Marjorie showed herself a woman of wonderful capacity in more ways than one. She arranged with the Colonial Bank officials to have a draft all ready for me to sign when I drove up one day for money, thus saving what must have proved a weary wait. She bought new steamer chairs, the others having been left carelessly on the Pretoria. She paid the hotel bill and made all arrangements for our departure, having taken pains to learn which steamer would take us away the soonest. We were to go on a Royal Mail boat, "the Don," (happy omen!) to Jamaica, being sure of plenty of American steamers from that point. On the day we were to depart I was nearly as strong as ever. Bidding farewell with some regrets to all the guests I knew, to the proprietor, the manager, Miss Byno and the brown-eyed bicyclist, I entered the carriage with really a light heart. I was going again on a voyage with Marjorie; going, though the route might be slightly circuitous, to a land where she and I were to be indissolubly united. Is it any wonder I was happy? The crowd of boatmen that assailed us at the water's edge nearly carried me off my feet. Money is too scarce in Barbados to make the possible gain of a dollar a light matter. One of the men caught me, however, by the name of his craft, which he repeated loudly. "Here yo' is, Massa; de Marjorie, dat's yo' boat, Massa!" I engaged him on the spot and a black patrolman scattered the horde of disappointed applicants. Our baggage and ourselves filled the little boat, but we knew we were safe. Off we started for the big black steamer, near which I could discern the American man-of-war "Cincinnati," bringing a leap of patriotic blood to my heart. Home? We were almost at home now, with the stars and stripes floating so near us! The "Don" and the "Marjorie." What could be more propitious? "I hope you won't scold me, Don," said Marjorie, in a low voice, "but I have taken a liberty that perhaps I should have spoken about beforehand." "Take any liberty you like, sweetheart," I answered. "I am yours now, to do what you please with." She drew off one of her gloves and advancing a hand asked me to inspect it. After doing so for a minute I told her I saw nothing except the dearest hand in the world; upon which I took it up and kissed it. "Don't you notice that I am wearing another ring?" she said, flushing. She certainly was: A gold ring at that and a plain one. It was on her wedding finger, too. My first thought was that she had summoned a minister and married me during my illness. This was too good to be true and I at once dismissed it. "You are not yet quite well," she explained, demurely, "and I shall have to be in your cabin frequently. I thought it best to avoid attracting notice, and as I had that ring of my mother's--I just--put it on." How sweet it was of her; how confiding! "But our names on the passenger list?" I said. "That is all arranged. We are Mr. and Mrs. Camwell."