Billy thought the _Petrel_ was about the finest thing imaginable, all white and shiny, and he thought the dinner was too much for mere words to describe--with just himself and Lorraine at the table. The mother was not well, but she looked much worse when Lorraine said that Tomlin wouldn’t come--until to-morrow. At dinner Billy got the whole story. Of course Lorraine didn’t intend to tell it, but she did--at least enough of it for him to understand that some years before she had loved Tomlin and he had loved her, and that they were promised, each to the other. But of course she had loved Tomlin and he had loved her, and that she was rich and he was poor and had “pride”--also a passion for bugs and things. There isn’t much money to be made out of that sort of study, and she objected to being expected to live on what he made from it--when she was rich as an Indian princess. Her father offered to help Tomlin along in business, but Tomlin insisted that his career was in studying bugs, and that made the father peevish and he said that Tomlin didn’t need help. Naturally Tomlin then grew more peevish and said that the father and his money could go to the--well, wherever it is that rich men go on Judgment Day when they fail to get through the eye of the needle. And, of course, that made Lorraine peevish, and she said that Tomlin didn’t love her. But he said that he did and always would, but that he had “pride.” So the engagement was shattered, and Lorraine married a man rich as she was. But Tomlin had her heart and she couldn’t forget him. Besides, she felt that maybe after all she was to blame. When her husband died from overwork of the stomach, she inquired and found that Tomlin had turned missionary to the Caroline Islands. She talked with her mother, and the mother, having known all along how Lorraine felt, said to do it, so Lorraine sent Tomlin a letter (the mail is delivered to stray missionaries once every three or four years), took the _Petrel_, engaged Captain Farwell, and set out to locate Tomlin, being aided thereby through the Board by Foreign Missions which had him down on its payroll for $35 every three months. But as converting heathens isn’t a very paying business, there were times when he did not get that. It was a long trip. And Captain Farwell, being a single man and feeling himself as attractive as any missionary, continually told her of how white men degenerated in the tropics and--well, the inference was that no woman could ask for a better husband than a sailorman of just his height and age. He might as well have suggested himself as the consort for the Empress Dowager of China. But the Captain had ideas and believed himself a very resourceful gentleman. “And Roscoe,” she said bitterly, “still has that awful ‘pride’ of his!” “He loves you, don’t he?” Billy demanded.