"Even the 'gators make eyes at you," I said, resting on my oars. We were on terms of badinage. "Who was it who shed crocodile tears at the prospect of shipping me North?" she inquired. "Speaking of tears," I observed, "somebody is likely to shed a number when Professor Farrago is picked up." "Pooh!" she said, and snapped her pretty, sun-tanned fingers; and I resumed the oars in time to avoid shipwreck on a large mud-bar. She reclined in the stern, serenely occupied with the view, now and then caressing the discouraged dog, now and then patting her hair where the wind had loosened a bright strand. "If Professor Farrago didn't expect a woman stenographer," she said, abruptly, "why did he instruct you to bring a complete outfit of woman's clothing?" "I don't know," I said, tartly. "But you bought them. Are they for a young woman or an old woman?" "I don't know; I sent a messenger to a department store. I don't know what he bought." "Didn't you look them over?" "No. Why? I should have been no wiser. I fancy they're all right, because the bill was eighteen hundred dollars--" The pretty stenographer sat up abruptly. "Is that much?" I asked, uneasily. "I've always heard women's clothing was expensive. Wasn't it enough? I told the boy to order the best;--Professor Farrago always requires the very best scientific instruments, and--I listed the clothes as scientific accessories--that being the object of this expedition--_What_ are you laughing at?" When it pleased her to recover her gravity she announced her desire to inspect and repack the clothing; but I refused. "They're for Professor Farrago," I said. "I don't know what he wants of them. I don't suppose he intends to wear 'em and caper about the jungle, but they're his. I got them because he told me to. I bought a cage, too, to fit myself, but I don't suppose he means to put me in it. Perhaps," I added, "he may invite you into it." "Let me refold the gowns," she pleaded, persuasively. "What does a clumsy man know about packing such clothing as that? If you don't, they'll be ruined. It's a shame to drag those boxes about through mud and water!" So we made a landing, and lifted out and unlocked the boxes. All I could see inside were mounds of lace and ribbons, and with a vague idea that Miss Barrison needed no assistance I returned to the boat and sat down to smoke until she was ready. When she summoned me her face was flushed and her eyes bright. "Those are certainly the most beautiful things!" she said, softly. "Why, it is like a bride's trousseau--absolutely complete--all except the bridal gown--" "Isn't there a dress there?" I exclaimed, in alarm. "No--not a day-dress." "Night-dresses!" I shrieked. "He doesn't want women's night-dresses! He's a bachelor! Good Heavens! I've done it this time!" "But--but who is to wear them?" she asked.