She was glad he wasn’t looking her way at that moment. It was like him to declare his mission so simply, and yet he stood there in the sunshine, smiling philosophically, as he turned down his collar, saying, “The merest superfluity. That’s what I am. Except,” he added more seriously, “that if I hadn’t come I should never have believed I was so little needed. So it turns out that what I’ve come for is my own enlightenment.” “Not only your enlightenment,” and her eyes invited him to understanding of a friend’s gratefulness to a friend. But he lifted his bare head to the breeze that swept in with the sunshine at the open door, as though, having delivered himself of his grievance, he could think of nothing now but the comfort of being free of that all-enveloping cap. His eyes seemed to shine only for joy in the sun, as he stood there ruffling still more his short, wavy hair—the hair that did, as Bella said, “fit” him so uncommonly well. And he certainly looked as little sentimental as some sturdy mountain pine. “Some people,” Hildegarde remarked in a detached tone, “would think it was a waste for two old friends—we might have had all these days together.” “Yes. I give you my word I never meant—” He seemed to intend an apology as though he assumed the deprivation to be chiefly, if not solely, hers. “The very first time I passed you I thought, of course, you’d find me out. Then, as you didn’t. I kept putting off—Morning, Captain.” “Morning!” “I should think you did keep putting off!” “I didn’t want you to”—he lowered his voice—“I didn’t want to take you by surprise before people.” “You thought the joy might be too much for me?” she demanded. Cheviot looked at her with the swift speculation in his eye of the man who is thinking: “Now, is she going to insist on quarreling with me?” “This is the lady I was talking to you about, Captain. Pretty cool of me having her up here without asking you! Miss Mar—Captain Gillies. Now, the least I can do is to take her down,” and, in spite of the captain’s gruff civility, that was what Cheviot proceeded to do. “Don Quixote’s signaling. Let’s go and see what’s up.” Hildegarde had not perceived that the gaunt old person below was making any unusual demonstration. He was always waving his arms and addressing the multitude. “I’ve been rather afraid of that one,” she confided. “Afraid? Then it’s only because you don’t know him. He’s the most interesting person on the ship.” “No, my Blumpitty’s the most interesting.” “Well, you show me your blumpitty and I’ll show you mine. Mine’s got an invention for pumping water for the placers.” “Mine’s got something far more wonderful.”