“Bob,” she said, “this is Seymour Covell, from Chicago. He is visiting us. You remember I--” She paused, noticing the expression upon the two faces. “Why!” she cried, in astonishment. “What is it? Do you know each other?” It was quite evident that they did. Griffin had risen when Covell entered. He was gazing at the latter in incredulous surprise. And Covell, when he turned to face Bob, seemed quite as much astonished. The hand which he had extended dropped at his side. Of the two, he appeared the more taken aback by the meeting. “_Do_ you know each other?” repeated Esther. “You look as if you did.” Seymour Covell’s embarrassment, if he was embarrassed, was but momentary. The hand shot forward again to seize Bob’s and shake it heartily. His handsome face beamed. “Well, well!” he declared, with a delighted smile, “this is a surprise! Griffin, who on earth would have expected to find you down here! How are you, old man? Glad to see you!” Bob’s gladness was more restrained. He accepted the handshake, but he did not return it, and his smile seemed, so Esther thought, somewhat forced. He looked from her to Covell and back again. “Why, how are you, Covell?” he said. “Where did you come from?” Covell laughed. “From Chicago. Chicago is my home port. That is the proper seafaring way to put it, isn’t it, Captain Townsend?... But the last time I saw you, Griffin, was in New York. What are you doing in Harniss, Massachusetts?” Bob shook his head. “Harniss, or next door to it, is where I belong,” he answered. “This is my home port. But I--well, it is the last port I ever expected to find you in.” Foster Townsend interrupted. “Here, here!” he ordered. “Come up into the wind a minute, you two. Seymour, I didn’t know you and this boy had ever met before. What is this all about, anyway?” Covell explained. He was quite at ease now. “Griffin and I are old friends,” he said. “We were fellow students at what we used to call the ‘Art Abattoir’ in New York. That is, he was a real student and I was--well, what can you honestly say I was, Griffin? Say it for me, will you? I am ashamed to try.” The laugh which accompanied the speech was infectious. Foster Townsend laughed, too, and so did Esther. Bob also attempted a laugh, but it was not a huge success. “I guess you were as much of a student as I was,” he said, rather awkwardly. “But what I can’t understand is why you are here--in Harniss.” “And in this house” was the thought in his mind, although he did not utter it. Esther answered the unspoken question. “Seymour is visiting us,” she put in. “He is that son of Uncle Foster’s old friend, the one I wrote you about. Don’t you remember I said we were expecting a visitor?” Bob did remember it, although it had made little impression when he read her letter. If she had told him that visitor’s name he would have remembered. He remembered many things about Seymour Covell.