Least of all did she tell Sanford that when the talk was over and Betty was gone, she had thrown herself on her own bed in an agony of tears, wondering after all which one of the two had done the better for herself in the battle of life,—she or the girl. Sanford knew nothing of this. As he sat in the train, on his way back to Keyport, his heart had gone out to the girl, for he had been greatly wrought up by the story Kate told him and by the pictures she had given of the interview. Yet, strange to say, he found himself bewildered by the fact that, even more than the story, he remembered the tones of Kate’s voice and the very color of her eyes as she talked. He was constantly seeing, too, as he lingered over its details, a vision of Kate herself as she stood in the hall and bade him good-by,—her full white throat above the ruffles of her morning-gown. As he rode on, he found it difficult to turn his mind to other things, or to quiet his inner enthusiasm for her gentleness and charity. And yet there were important affairs to which he owed immediate attention. Carleton’s continued refusal to sign a certificate for the concrete disk, without which no payment would be made by the government, would, if persisted in, cause him serious embarrassment. The difficulty with Carleton had already reached an acute stage. Captain Joe had altogether failed in his efforts to make the superintendent sign the certificate, and Carleton had threatened to wire the Department and demand a board of survey if his orders were not complied with at once. The captain generally retired from the field and left the campaign to Sanford whenever, in the course of their work, it became necessary to fight the United States government—the sea was his enemy. In this discussion, however, he had taken the pains to explain to Carleton patiently, and he thought intelligently, the falsity of the stand he took, showing him that his idea about the concrete base being too low was the result of a mere optical illusion, due to the action of the tide which backed the water up higher within the breakwater on the southeast side; that when the first course of masonry was laid, bringing the mass of concrete out of water, his—Carleton’s—mistake would be instantly detected. Captain Joe was as much out of patience as he ever permitted himself to be with Carleton, when he shook Sanford’s hand on his arrival. “Ain’t no man on earth smart ’nough to make eleven inches a foot, let alone a critter like him!” he said, as he explained the latest development. Once over the sloop’s side, Sanford laid his bag on the deck and turned to the men. “Who saw the concrete at dead low water during that low tide we had after the last northwest blow?” he inquired. “I did, sir,” answered Captain Brandt. “I told Mr. Carleton he was wrong. The water jes’ tetched the outer iron band all round when I see it. It was dead calm an’ dead low water.” “What do you say to that, Mr. Carleton?” asked Sanford, laughing.