Now it was Sears' turn. He had gone over a scene like this, the scene which he had foreseen, many times. He was kind, but he was firm. He told her that he should not accept the trusteeship. He could not. It was too great a responsibility for a man with as little--and that little unfortunate--business experience as he had had. "It needs a banker or a lawyer for that job, Elizabeth," he declared. "What does a sailor know about handlin' money? You go to Bradley; Bradley's the man." But she did not want Bradley. The judge only mentioned Bradley as second choice. "He wanted you, Cap'n Kendrick. He had every confidence in you. You should see what he says about your ability and common-sense and--and honesty in the letter. Please." "No, Elizabeth. As far as honesty goes I guess he's right. I am honest, at least I hope I should be. But for the rest--he's partial there. He seemed to take a fancy to me, and goodness knows I liked him. But you mustn't feel you've got to do this thing. He wrote me it was only a suggestion. You are absolutely free--he wrote me so--to go to Bradley or----" "No." She rose to her feet. "I shan't go to Bradley or anybody but you. I am like him, Cap'n Kendrick; I trust you. I have come to know you and to believe in you. I like you. Why, you don't know how glad I was to find that he wanted you to do this for me. Glad! I--I felt----" "Why, Elizabeth!" He had not meant to speak. The words were forced from him involuntarily. Her tone, her eyes, the eager earnestness in her voice.... He did not say any more, nor did he look at her. Instead he looked at the patchwork comforter which had fallen from his knees to the floor, and fervently hoped that he had not already said too much. He stooped and picked up the comforter. "And you will do it for me, won't you?" she pleaded. "I can't. It wouldn't be right." "Then I shall not take the money at all. _He_ gave it to me, _he_ asked me--the very last thing he asked was that you should do it. He put the trust in your hands. And you won't do it--for him--or for me?" "Well, but--but---- Oh, good Lord! how can I?" "Why can't you?" The real reason he could not tell her. According to Kent--whether inspired by Phillips or not made little difference--people were already whispering and hinting. How much more would they hint and whisper if they knew that he had taken charge of her money? The thought had not occurred to her, of course; the very idea was too ridiculous for her to imagine; but that made but one more reason why he must think for her. "No," he said, again. "No, I can't." "But why? You haven't told me why."