She felt utterly helpless when the stranger, with another smile, produced three eggs from his pocket, and taking a bowl, proceeded to break the eggs into it and beat them with right good will. "When you seeck, then you weak," he explained. "Most eat good sopper! I make!" In the twinkling of an eye the frying-pan was on the stove; and, while it was heating, his keen black eyes spied a tray. Napkin, knife and fork were arranged upon it with swift precision. Setting a plate to warm on the back of the stove, he proceeded to do wonderful things with the beaten eggs, tossing them about with a fork, stirring, seasoning, tasting. This was done with the right hand, while the left was toasting a slice of bread. All the time the black eyes were glancing here and there, like darting sunbeams. Spying a string of onions, the stranger pounced upon them. A morsel was torn off, shredded fine, and stirred into the savoury mess. In five minutes such an omelette was smoking on the hot plate as Miss Palmyra had never even dreamed of; and in one minute more it was beside her on the little light-stand, and she was bidden "Eat! I make tea!" Now Miss Palmyra had _not_ had a good dinner, and she was desperately hungry, and--oh! how good that omelette did smell! The toast was perfect! Where had Mis' Brewster's nephew learned all this? And now, to crown all, a cup of tea was set beside her,--hot, strong and fragrant. And then-- "Please ze lady I also have a cup?" asked this astonishing person. The tone was soft and pleading, the dark eyes deprecating, as if he were a humble suitor, asking a royal boon. "Well, I should hope you could!" cried Miss Palmyra, hospitably. "The idea! I don't see what I was thinking of, Mr.--_Is_ your name Brewster?" "No!" said the stranger, softly. "Name is Jim!" A good supper had Giorgios Aristides Evangelides Paparipopoulos, _alias_ Jim, that night! There was more omelette than Miss Palmyra could possibly eat, she declared; indeed, Jim had meant that there should be. Then she told him where to find a certain loaf of spice cake, and a jar of damson jam; and she insisted upon his eating till he could eat no more. After a week of salted backbone of hog, Jim's appetite for these good things was keen enough. He beamed with pleasure; his smiles made noonday in the darkening kitchen: Miss Palmyra thought him uncommonly handsome. Only--it was a pity he wore ear-rings. And, after all, who was he? She really must find out. "You've never told me how you kem to know of my bein' lame!" she said, as her guest was washing the dishes with careful nicety. "You a stranger here, too! Who did send ye, if I'm not takin' a liberty?" "Ze honourable captains send me," said Jim, with open cheerfulness; "and ze selected gentlemen." "Well, I'm sure!" ejaculated Miss Palmyra.