"Yet more ladies, I suppose," murmured Jaffrey Bretton, "travel under assumed hair than under assumed names." "Why, Old-Dad!" protested Daphne. In a sudden flare of interest her whole attention focused on the lady. "My! but your hair _is_ red!" she cried. "And such heaps of it! Why, goodness!" she stammered, "you're almost as young as I am!" "It's delightful of you to think so," smiled the lady. "But even you, I'm afraid, will never rate me as young as this--this--your father, was it, you said?" "I don't quite understand what you mean?" sobered Daphne. "People almost never understand what ladies mean," said her father. "But the inference is, of course, that this one refers at the moment to my somewhat callow conversation. However," he continued, perfectly blithely, "I see no reason why we shouldn't all be very happy together--until such time at least as my own [131] launch returns with its remodeled engine. But meanwhile when did you eat last?" he turned abruptly to ask the lady with sincere concern. "Last night," conceded the lady. "Truly I did have a bit of a headache." "Our grapefruit are not iced," mused Jaffrey Bretton, "and we pour our butter from a pitcher--which is not the custom, of course, on Gulf-going yachts but as camp food goes----" With a little swift smile he reached out his hand to Daphne and drew her to her feet. "Dinner is served, ladies!" he said, and started up the beach. Still holding tightly to one hand Daphne followed half a step behind him. "The sun's so hot and--the sand's so thick--and the shells are so sharp," she called back cordially to the Intruding Lady, "you'd find it heaps easier, too, if you'd take Old-Dad's other hand!" "No, I thank you!" said the Intruding Lady, but plowed along valiantly after them. The sun was hot! The sand was thick! The shells were very sharp! No shade for almost a mile except the occasional lattice-like [132] flicker of a sea gull's flight! But close at their side the Blue Gulf pounded and splashed in ecstatic spray. And towering high above the sallow glare of beach-grass and cactus thicket the bright green cocoanut palms clattered and fanned with at least the sound of coolness! "I--I suppose I'll have to keep the lady in _my_ tent," whispered Daphne. "Your supposition is perfectly correct," said her father. "She's got rather nice eyes, I think," whispered Daphne. "And the cutest hair!" "Has she really?" said her father. At the sudden sharp wince in the little hand that had nestled so confidently in his own he glanced back just in time to catch the look he so dreaded in her eyes. "I--I suppose I ought to tell her," suffered Daphne. "Tell her--what?" snapped her father.