Betty was reassured at once, and, truly glad to see a human being of her own walk in life, her face broke into smiles and merry dimples, as she said: “Hello, Man Friday!” “Who are you?” was his bewildered response, and then remembering himself, he added: “I beg your pardon; may I assist you to rise?” He took Betty’s hand, and in a moment she had jumped up from her crouching position, and stood facing him. “I’m Betty Crusoe,” she said; “I’m stranded on a desert island, and if you’re Man Friday, I hope you’ll protect me from cannibals or bears or whatever wild beasts abound here.” “Oh, I know you,” said the young man, smiling. “You’re Miss Betty McGuire.” “I am. I’m a guest of the Careys—only—the Careys don’t seem to be here!” “No, they’re not. I’m Hal Pennington, at your service. I’m called Pen or Penny for short,—sometimes Bad Penny.” “I’m sure that’s a libel,” said Betty, smiling at his kind, honest face. “It is, I assure you, for I’m good as gold. Well, I, too, am a guest of the Careys, and, as you so cleverly observe, they don’t seem to be here!” “Where are they?” “Well, you see it was this way. All the servants took it into their foolish heads to leave at once. They decamped last night. So this morning the Careys started off in the motor-car to bring home a lot of new ones.” “But why didn’t they come to the station for me, as they arranged?” “Oh, they telegraphed you last night not to come till next week.” “And I didn’t get the telegram!” “Thus that explains all! How did you get here?” “In a rumbly old wagon of a kind farmer. The front door wasn’t locked, so I walked in and made myself at home. Are you staying here?” “Yes, for a week. I’m sketching some bits of woodland, and I stayed at home to-day rather than go with them to stalk servants. Now, let me see,—this is rather a complicated situation. Shall I, by virtue of prior residence, be host and welcome you as my visitor, or would you rather appropriate the house as your own, and let me be your guest?” His jolly, boyish face seemed to show that he thought the whole affair a great joke, and Betty fell into the spirit of it. “When do the Careys return?” she asked. “Mrs. Carey said they’d surely be home by three o’clock, and I could forage in the pantry to keep myself from starving.” “All right,” said Betty; “I’ll be hostess, then, until she comes. You’ve heard Lena speak of me?” “Gracious, yes! I’ve heard you so highly lauded that I doubt if you can live up to the angelic reputation she gives you!” “Oh, yes, I can,” said Betty, laughing. “Now I’ll be Betty Crusoe, and this house is my desert island. You’re Man Friday, and you must do exactly as I say.” “I live but to obey your decrees,” said young Pennington, with a deep bow. “Good! Now, first of all, I’m starving. Are you?” “I even starve at your command. I am famished.” “I believe you are, really. Let’s see what we can find.”