“But you spoke to me first,” blurted out Dick. “I’m awfully sorry to have you think me rude, but I want to know what this is.” Curiosity drew Dorothy Ravenden as powerfully as it commonly draws less imperious natures. Somewhat peculiar this man might be, but it seemed a harmless aberration, and it certainly took an interesting guise. She bent forward to look at the object extended to her. “Why, it’s a twenty-dollar bill!” “Then my eye-sight is still good,” he observed contentedly. “Question number two: Why did you give it to me?” “To you?” To Dick Colton, as she stood there poised, the gracious colour flushing up into her cheeks, her lips half-opened, she was the loveliest thing he ever had seen. The hand that held the bill shook. “To you?” she repeated. “I didn’t.” “It was just like an operatic setting,” he expounded slowly. “Background of cliffs, firelight in the middle, ocean surf in front. Out of the magic circle of fire steps the Fairy Queen and hands to the poor but deserving toiler what in common parlance is known as a double saw-buck. Please, your Majesty, why? And do you want a receipt?” “Oh!” she said in charming dismay. And again “Oh!” Then it came out: “I took you for one of the life-savers.” “The life-savers?” repeated Dick. “Yes. Is that strange? You were so big and shaggy and——” she stopped short of the word “splendid” which was on her lips. “How could I tell? You looked as much like a seal as a man.” The ripple of her laughter, full of joyousness, yet with a little catch of some underlying feeling in it, was a patent of fellowship, which would have astonished most of Miss Ravenden’s hundreds of admirers, among whom she was regarded as a rather haughty beauty. “I don’t know many men who would have done it—or could have done it,” she added simply, and gave him her eyes, full. Dick turned red. “Anyone would have,” he said. “It was the only thing to do.” She nodded slowly as if an impression had been confirmed to her satisfaction. “As for this,” he continued, looking from her to the greenback, and striving to speak calmly, when his heart was a-thrill with the desire to tell her how altogether lovely and lovable she was, “if it’s intended as a reward of merit, I’ll turn it over to Miss Johnston.” “Wasn’t she magnificent?” cried the girl. “I’ll slay Helga!” she added with a sudden change of tone. “She’s a beast of the field. She knew about the—the bill and she never told me.” “That’ll cost her just twenty dollars,” declared Colton judicially, “because now I won’t turn it over to her.” “Give it back to me, please,” said the girl, holding out a tanned and slender hand. “Give it back?” cried Colton in assumed chagrin. “Why, I already had spent that twenty in imagination.” “On what?” asked the girl rather impatiently. “It’s a long list,” replied Colton cunningly. “You’d better sit down while I tell it over.” He threw his coat over a rock, and she perched herself on it daintily.