"How do I know? I don't know anything; I can only presume that he doesn't intend to open a department store in the Everglades. And if any lady is to wear garments in his vicinity, I assume that those garments are to be anything except diaphanous!... Please take your seat in the boat, Miss Barrison. I want to row and think." I had had my fill of exercise and thought when, about four o'clock in the afternoon, Miss Barrison directed my attention to a point of palms jutting out into the water about a mile to the southward. "That's Farrago!" I exclaimed, catching sight of a United States flag floating majestically from a bamboo-pole. "Give me the megaphone, if you please." She handed me the instrument; I hailed the shore; and presently a man appeared under the palms at the water's edge. "Hello!" I roared, trying to inject cheerfulness into the hollow bellow. "How are you, professor?" The answer came distinctly across the water: "_Who_ is that with you?" My lips were buried in the megaphone; I strove to speak; I only produced a ghastly, chuckling sound. "Of course you expect to tell the truth," observed the pretty stenographer, quietly. I removed my lips from the megaphone and looked around at her. She returned my gaze with a disturbing smile. "I want to mitigate the blow," I said, hoarsely. "Tell me how." "I'm sure I don't know," she said, sweetly. "Well, _I_ do!" I fairly barked, and seizing the megaphone again, I set it to my lips and roared, "My fiancee!" "Good gracious!" exclaimed Miss Barrison, in consternation, "I thought you were going to tell the truth!" "Don't do that or you'll upset us," I snapped--"I'm telling the truth; I've engaged myself to you; I did it mentally before I bellowed." "But--" "You know as well as I do what engagements mean," I said, picking up the oars and digging them deep in the blue water. She assented uncertainly. A few minutes more of vigorous rowing brought us to a muddy landing under a cluster of tall palmettos, where a gasoline launch lay. Professor Farrago came down to the shore as I landed, and I walked ahead to meet him. He was the maddest man I ever saw. But I was his match, for I was desperate. "What the devil--" he began, under his breath. "Nonsense!" I said, deliberately. "An engaged woman is practically married already, because marriages are made in heaven." "Good Lord!" he gasped, "are you mad, Gilland? I sent for a stenographer--" "Miss Barrison is a stenographer," I said, calmly; and before he could recover I had presented him, and left them face to face, washing my hands of the whole affair. Unloading the boat and carrying the luggage up under the palms, I heard her saying: "No, I am not in the least afraid of snakes, and I am quite ready to begin my duties." And he: "Mr. Gilland is a young man who--er--lacks practical experience." And she: "Mr. Gilland has been most thoughtful for my comfort. The journey has been perfectly heavenly."