Accustomed to be eagerly wooed, Helen did not know what to make of this devotee who did not urge himself even upon her friendship. She had never given any man that treasure before. Like all high-minded women who have not spent themselves in experiments of the sensibilities, Helen regarded her own friendship as valuable. She would have preferred him to show, at least, that he appreciated his privilege. She would have liked him to make friendship as devotedly as those other men had made love to her. His reserve, his distance, his apparent moodiness, and undoubted ability to live without seeing her except when he got ready to do so, gave her a perplexed trouble more important than pique. Without ado or delay, she took the next electric car for Mrs. Slip’s. Bayard received that afternoon, by the familiar hand of Joey Slip, this brief rejoinder:-- DEAR MR. BAYARD,--This experienced boy seems to be on intimate terms with you, and offers to take my report, which stands thus: Johnny’s mother is in the Widows’ Home. Shall I write you details? Truly yours, H. C. “Run on down to the Mainsail Hotel, Joey,” said the minister, writing rapidly. “Find the lady--there will be a good many ladies--and hand her this.” “Pooh!” retorted this nautical child with a superior air, “Vat ain’t nuffin! She’s good-lookin’ nuff to find off Zheorges in a fog-bank.” Thus ran the note:-- DEAR MISS CARRUTH,--I will call for the report to-morrow. Thank you. Yours, E. B. When Bayard reached her mother’s piazza the next evening, Helen was in the middle of the harbor. “My daughter is considered a good oarswoman, I believe,” said the Professor with a troubled look. “I know nothing about these matters myself. I confess I wish I did. I have not felt easy about her; she has propelled the craft so far into the stream. I am delighted to see you, Mr. Bayard! I will put another boat at your service--that is--I suppose you understand the use of oars?” “Better than I do Verbal Inspiration, Professor!” replied Bayard, laughing. “She is rather far out, and the tide has turned.” He ran down the pier, and leaped into the first boat that he could secure. It happened to be a dory. “Can you overtake her?” asked her father with a keen look. “I can try,” replied the young man, smiling. The Professor heaved a sigh, whether of relief or of anxiety it would not be easy to say, and stood upon the pier watching Bayard’s fine stroke. Mrs. Carruth came clucking anxiously down, and put her hand upon her husband’s arm. Bayard looked at the two elderly people with a strange affectionateness which he did not analyze; feeling, but not acknowledging, a sudden heart-ache for ties which he had never known.