"Poor Mrs. Judson!" Ruth gasped. "The doctor left me to take care of her." "Hang Mrs. Judson!" exclaimed Ryder. "Is she to be tied about our necks like a millstone? Is she our Old Man of the Sea?" "Sh!" She put her own lips to his. "Don't be offensive, dear boy!" she gasped after a long breathless kiss which shook both of them. "She--she can't help being--well!--being just what she is." "Humph!" grunted John Ryder with much doubt. "Where is she?" "In there," Ruth replied nodding toward the inner room. "Oh! I am so glad you are all right, I could forgive Mrs. Judson everything now!" she whispered, snuggling her face down against his breast again. "I'm hanged if I forgive her for spoiling this night for us," growled he. "But there are other nights--hundreds of them--thousands----" "How do you know?" demanded he. "And we never saw her in our lives before last evening! By thunder! this is the unluckiest old hole of a hotel. I'm almost tempted to ask you to pack up again. Some honeymoon!" "But how would we get away from here?" she asked, wonderingly. "They say there are no passenger trains on this short line to Pinewood. And until the bridge is repaired, how can we get to the station at Barr, on the main line?" "There is a combination that runs down to the Junction at eight and another at one o'clock, besides the evening train," John Ryder said. "Of course, it is not very luxurious. But you say the word, and I'll get the telegraph to working in the morning and we'll have a special sent up here." "A special what?" she asked in wonderment. "Special train." "Oh! You foolish boy! How extravagant! Why, you talk as though you were a millionaire!" cried Ruth, laughing up into his face. "Why, I----" Ryder halted. Did she not know he was very wealthy? He had not boasted of his money, but surely, on the _Minnequago_, he had told her enough about his circumstances for her to realize that she had married a very wealthy man. She was speaking again now, and rather seriously. "I don't really think I want to go, dear. Not right away. I want time to look about the old place. We must walk through the pines--and down to the inlet where the crabbing used to be so good. You know the places we want to see, John." "Oh! Do I?" asked John Ryder in growing surprise. "Of course. Now, don't make believe you are not sentimental. I know you are," and she squeezed him tightly about the throat until there was grave danger of his choking. Ryder had moved over into a big armchair and had taken Ruth with him. "So I am sentimental, am I?" he said. "You seem to know a deal about me for a man you've seen so short a time." "Oh, but," she responded, "remember how often I have thought of you since--well, since I was a tiny girl. I've often imagined just how you'd look and just the sort of man you'd be." "The deuce you did!" muttered Ryder. Then: "Do all girls dream about their future husbands and wonder what they will look like?"