“Two and a half, really,” said Hash. “Because he expired toward evening.” “I’ll run and get a sponge and a basin,” said Kay in agitation. “That’s awfully good of you,” said Sam. Oh, woman, he felt, in our hours of ease uncertain, coy and hard to please; when pain and anguish rack the brow, a ministering angel thou. And he nearly said as much. “You don’t want to do that, miss,” said Hash. “Much simpler for him to come indoors and put ’em under the tap.” “Perhaps that would be better,” agreed Kay. Sam regarded his practical-minded subordinate with something of the injured loathing which his cooking had occasionally caused to appear on the faces of dainty feeders in the fo’c’sle of the _Araminta_. “This isn’t your busy day, Hash, I take it?” he said coldly. “Pardon?” “I said, you seem to be taking life pretty easily. Why don’t you do a little work sometimes? If you imagine you’re a lily of the field, look in the glass and adjust that impression.” Hash drew himself up, wounded. “I’m only stayin’ ’ere to ’elp and encourage,” he said stiffly. “Now that what I might call the peril is over, there’s nothing to keep me.” “Nothing,” agreed Sam cordially. “I’ll be going.” “You know your way,” said Sam. He turned to Kay. “Hash is an ass,” he said. “Put them under the tap, indeed! These hands need careful dressing.” “Perhaps they do,” Kay agreed. “They most certainly do.” “Shall we go in then?” “Without delay,” said Sam. “There,” said Kay, some ten minutes later. “I think that will be all right.” The finest efforts of the most skilful surgeon could not have evoked more enthusiasm from her patient. Sam regarded his bathed and sticking-plastered hands with an admiration that was almost ecstatic. “You’ve had training in this sort of thing,” he said. “No.” “You’ve never been a nurse?” “Never.” “Then,” said Sam, “it is pure genius. It is just one of those cases of an amazing natural gift. You’ve probably saved my life. Oh, yes, you have! Remember what Hash said about lockjaw.” “But I thought you thought Hash was an ass.” “In many ways, yes,” said Sam. “But on some points he has a certain rugged common sense. He----” “Won’t you be awfully late for the office?” “For the what? Oh! Well, yes, I suppose I ought to be going there. But I’ve got to have breakfast first.” “Well, hurry then. My uncle will be wondering what has become of you.” “Yes. What a delightful man your uncle is!” “Yes, isn’t he! Good-bye.” “I don’t know when I’ve met a man I respected more.” “This will be wonderful news for him.” “So kind.” “Yes.” “So patient with me.” “I expect he needs to be.” “The sort of man it’s a treat to work with.” “If you hurry you’ll be able to work with him all the sooner.” “Yes,” said Sam; “yes. Er--is there any message I can give him?” “No, thanks.” “Ah? Well, then look here,” said Sam, “would you care to come and have lunch somewhere to-day?”