“First, a hundred packages of plug tobacco. All coast-guards use plug, I believe. Then five dollars’ worth of prints of prominent actors and actresses in gaudy colours. The rest in Mexican lottery tickets,” he concluded lamely, his invention giving out. “It wasn’t worth sitting down for,” she said disparagingly. “If you had intended to get something really useful, I might have let you keep it. Please!” The little hand went forth again. Hastily he produced a ten-dollar bill and two fives. “You don’t mind having it in change?” he said anxiously. “You see, this is the first money I ever earned outside of my profession, and I mean to frame it.” “If twenty dollars means so little to you that you can have it hanging around framed——” “This particular twenty means a great deal to me,” he interrupted. She rose. “I was going down to try a cast or two,” she said. “With a net?” asked Dick. “I should like to see that.” “There’s a fishing rod in the handle of the net,” she explained, ignoring the hint. “I keep the net rigged because I help my father collect. Entomology is his specialty, and there are a few rare moths here that he hopes to get.” “Am I sufficiently introduced now to ask if I may walk along with you?” “I’m sorry I was so—so snippy,” she said sweetly. “To make up for it, you may.” “Are you here particularly for collecting moths?” he asked, stepping to her side. “Yes, one or two kinds that my father and I are studying. I play butterfly in the winter and hunt them in the summer. Everyone here has a purpose. Father and I are adding to the sum of human knowledge on _Lepidoptera_. Mr. Haynes is spending his vacation with Helga. Helga is resting, before taking up her musical studies. You ought to have a purpose. What has brought you here?” Now, Dick Colton, like many big men, was awkward, and like most awkward men, was shy about women. Therefore, it was with a sort of stunned amazement and admiration for his own audacity that he found himself looking straight into Dorothy Ravenden’s unfathomable eyes as he replied briefly: “Fate.” “Well, upon my soul!” gasped that much-habituated young woman of the world, surprised for a brief instant out of her poise. Quickly recovering, she added: “A fortunate fate for Helga, surely. Except for you, she and Mr. Haynes must have been drowned.” “You knew her before, didn’t you?” “Yes; we visit at the same house in Philadelphia, and father and I have been coming down here for several years. I know her well. If I were a man, I should go the world over for Helga Johnston.” “She and Haynes are engaged, are they not?” “No, not engaged,” said the girl. “She is everything in the world to Mr. Haynes; but she isn’t in love with him. He has never tried to make her. There is some reason; I don’t know what. Sometimes I think he doesn’t care for her in that way either. Or perhaps he doesn’t realise it.” “Surely she seems fond of him.”