“As for the dreams,” began Helga. She did not conclude the sentence, but said gravely, “Yes, I’m a true sea-waif.” “I’d like to adopt you for a sister,” said Dick, smiling, but with such an honesty of admiration that it was the girl’s turn to blush. “Haven’t you any of your own?” she asked. “‘I am all the sisters of my father’s house,’” he misquoted cheerily. “And all the brothers too?” she capped the perversion. “No; I’ve a brother a year younger than I. There may be in this universe,” he continued reflectively, “people who don’t like Everard. If there are, they live in Mars. Everybody on this old earth—and he seems to know pretty much all of ’em—takes to him like a duck to water. He’s a wonder, that youth!” “Everard?” said the girl. There was a quick and subtle change in her tone. “Is Everard Colton your brother? I should never have guessed it. You don’t resemble each other in the least.” “No; he’s the ornament of the family. I’m the plodder. And we’re the greatest chums ever. Where did you know him?” “Oh, he used to ride over to Bryn Mawr while I was at college,” she said carelessly, “in an abominable yellow automobile and kill the gardener’s chickens on an average of one a trip. The girls called his machine ‘The Feathered Juggernaut.’” “Bryn Mawr?” exclaimed Dick. “What an idiot I am! You’re the Helga Johnston that——” He broke off short and regarded his feet with a colour so vividly growing as to suggest that they had suddenly occasioned him an agony of shame. “Yes, I’m the girl that so alarmed your family lest I should marry your brother,” she said calmly. “You need not have feared. I have not——” “Don’t say ‘you’!” interrupted Colton. “Please don’t! I had no part in that. I hadn’t the faintest idea who the girl was, but when I saw how Ev steadied down and settled to work I knew it was a good influence, and I told the family so. Now that I’ve met you——” he broke off suddenly. “Poor Ev!” he said in a low tone. Had his boots been less demanding of attention, Colton would have seen the deep blue of her eyes dimmed to grey by a sudden rush of tears. “Let us agree to leave your brother out of future conversations, Dr. Colton,” she said decisively. “Good-morning, Petit Père,” she greeted Haynes as he came into the room. “I salute you, Princess,” said Haynes with a low bow. “You beat me in.” “Have you been out trying to gather more evidence against my poor juggler?” “If I have, it’s been with no success.” “I wish you failure,” she returned as she left the room. “Here’s something that may interest you,” said Colton to Haynes, and related the episode of the sheep. The reporter sat down. Colton thought he looked white and worn. Haynes meditated, frowning. “You say the sheep lay on the hard sand?” he said at length. “Yes; halfway between the cliff-line and the ocean.” “That ought to help a lot,” said Haynes decisively. “What marks were around it?” “Marks?” repeated Colton vacantly. “Yes; marks, footmarks,” impatiently.