Kitty Hawk was on the chart--of so much he was certain--and he guessed that it contained a shop to supply its needs. He determined to purchase some sadly needed apparel for himself. In the shop, too, he would be certain to find Betty. Still a little languid from his experiences of the night, he strolled leisurely along the sandy path. The day was clear and pleasantly warm. On his left the sun glinted upon the now kindly sea, and on his right the seagulls shrieked and fought above the waters of the sound. And presently he would see Betty. He entered the village. The few people he met greeted him with a stare of frank curiosity, a stare generally followed by a friendly nod. As he had anticipated, he soon came upon a building bearing a sign: BAZAAR. DRYGOODS AND GROCERIES. POST-OFFICE. In front of it a wooden bench extending along the sidewalk, and three or four lank loungers thereupon, furnished irrefutable proof that the centre of Kitty Hawk's business activities was at hand. He remembered that he had not had a sight of Betty for five hours, and he pushed open the door of the "Bazaar" eager to see again the roguish mouth. To his disappointment, she was not in the shop. However, the proprietor, a sandy-haired native inclining to corpulency, was prompt to supply his needs, nor was he backward in answering Fessenden's question as to whether or not he had seen a young woman in a white sailor-suit. "You-all are off the sloop 'at come in jest aftah the big yacht, I reckon. Yes, suh, yoah wife's jest been heah." "My wife!" He could have bitten his tongue off the next instant, for the man gave him a sharp, not to say suspicious, look. "Yes. The young lady's yoah wife, I reckon, suh. Her and you-all come togethah, didn't yo'?" "Yes--no--that is--" stammered Fessenden. The shopkeeper stopped in the act of wrapping the assortment of haberdashery and razors Fessenden had picked out. "It ain't my way to quawl with good money," he said, "but I'm a professin' Baptist, and I'm _obliged_ to say if yo' two folks have come sailin' round these parts 'ithout bein' lawfully married--well"--he sighed regretfully--"then, suh, you-all can't buy nothin' in my stoah." But by this time Fessenden had recovered his wits. "No, no, man," he said. "You don't understand. She's my daughter." "Oh, yoah daughtah? Then it's all right, of co'se. Yes, suh, I can see now she does favah you-all a heap." Although desirous of being convinced, his suspicions still lingered. "But you-all are a pretty young-lookin' fathah, that's a fact, suh." "Forty isn't very young," returned Fessenden mendaciously. "Which way did you say she went?" "Why, she met some of yoah friends from the big yacht. They was in aftah theyah mail. They-all went out togethah. Yoah friends beat you-all consid'abul, didn't they?"