“Ah! And Miss Ravenden has been advising you to marry Mr. Haynes?” “She has been advising me not to,” retorted Helga. “Harris Haynes is the best man I have ever known, and I owe him everything; but Dolly knows that I don’t—really, Dr. Colton, I don’t know why I should be telling you all these things.” Dick, thunderstruck at the new light on Miss Ravenden’s views, paid no attention to this mild suggestion that he mind his own business. Indeed it suddenly had become his own business with a vengeance. “Miss Ravenden advised you not to marry Haynes? It can’t be. She told me——” “You and Dolly seem to be very much interested in my affairs.” “I beg your pardon,” said Dick. “Some day I hope to explain to you. Let us get back to Everard, You say there is a reason why you should not marry him?” “Yes.” “Don’t you care for him?” “That is a question you have no right to ask.” “Ah!” said Dick with satisfaction. “Then it is that wretched business of the family’s opposition.” Helga made no reply. “Listen, Miss Helga,” said Dick after a few moments’ thought. “Someone told my mother lies about you. I don’t know what they were; but I do know that they gave Mother a wrong impression. My mother is the best mother in the world, and a good and noble woman, only she has one attribute of the domestic hen. When alarmed she moves hurriedly, and usually in the wrong direction. The liar in this case alarmed her. Now, then: my father is a broken man; he has not long to live. I am virtually the head of the family. In this case the family will accept my decision. I ask you in their name if you will honour us by marrying my brother? Will you shake hands on the promise?” He held out his hand, looking her in the eyes. Helga flushed deeply; but answered the smile with her own as she said: “Dr. Colton, you are a good man, and”—she hesitated for a moment—“some girl will be very proud of you. But you aren’t very wise about women, or you would know that there is only one man a girl can give that promise to. And,” she added meaningly, “no one else can give it for her.” “I understand,” he replied. “I say nothing.” “Then I’ll shake hands on _your_ promise,” she said gravely. “Well, well, well!” said a thick voice above them. “That’s a nice picture. Whatcher think this is, Central Park? I’ll tell that pup, Haynes.” Paul Serdholm, the life-guard from the Sand Spit station, stood on the brink of the ravine. It was evident that he had been drinking. “You go about your business,” said Colton slowly. “Oh, that’s easy said,” retorted the fellow. “I’m on the trouble-hunt to-day. Went over to Bow Hill an’ licked that shrimp Bruce for callin’ me down the night of the wreck. Comin’ back, I seen the Portuguese sneakin’ along by an oak patch; so I dropped on him an’ punched his face up. I don’t like Dagoes. Now I’m going to do you up, you fresh guy.” “Serdholm, you’re drunk,” said Helga contemptuously. “And you’re making a fool of yourself.”