“I am used to being obeyed, young man,” Mrs. Carrington, with a playful frown. “I have no doubt, though, that I sent a blundering messenger. Oh, that Peter of mine! I never know how to place him. He came back perfectly wild over going into the motion picture business with you. He has been tormenting me all day long about it. I have told him decidedly that I should not encourage him in any way. “To tell you the truth, Mr. Durham, Peter is a sad failure at anything that requires application and work. I would not do you the injustice of having you hampered by a person who has no business training and does not know the value of money. The fact is, Peter has been a great cross to me of late, and I am now in correspondence with a military school, with the idea of getting him where a year’s discipline may do him some good.” Frank had not for a moment seriously entertained the thought of taking Peter Carrington into partnership. He felt immensely relieved, however, to find that his visitor did not press that phase of the subject. “I have come, first and foremost,” went on the fussy but good-natured lady, “to thank you for what you did for us. When I think of how near we were to drowning or burning up it makes me shudder! My friends, who happened to see your picture in this morning’s paper----” “My picture?” exclaimed Frank, in bewilderment. “What picture, Mrs. Carrington?” “Why,” cried Mrs. Carrington, “he actually is so modest he hasn’t realized what a hero he has been! I refer to the splendid account of your bravery in the _Brenton Daily News_.” Brenton was the nearest city, about twenty miles from Seaside Park. Frank began to get a faint glimmering of the situation now. The reporter who had snap-shotted him with his camera from the pier must have sent his story to the paper Mrs. Carrington mentioned. “I think I have the clipping about the rescue,” observed Miss Porter, groping in her hand bag while her merry eyes twinkled as she observed the increasing embarrassment of Frank. “Yes, here it is.” Frank only glanced at the clipping that was held forward for his inspection. He could not help but notice the glowing head line; “A Single Act of Bravery,” and observe that a very fair picture of himself in the launch was shown. “You can have it, Mr. Durham,” continued his mischievous tormentor with a smile. “Your friends are named also in the paper and they may not dislike honest praise, as you seem to do.” “Now then,” broke in Mrs. Carrington, in her self-assertive way, “let me say what I specially came down here to say. Oh, I was telling about my friends. They have fairly overwhelmed me with congratulations over my fortunate escape.” “Yes, and some of them who saw the newspaper account said--what was it, Mrs. Carrington? You must tell Mr. Durham,” declared the younger woman. “About the handsome picture and what a sensible, thoughtful young man our rescuer must be?”