With a little cry she dropped her shovel and turned toward me. It was my turn to be startled. She was the girl of the Seaboard Florida Limited--the girl with the long lashes! We stood there staring at each other for a moment. She was belligerent, resentful; but I saw at once that she remembered me. "I got here first!" she cried, "it's mine!" I looked about at the pathetic little holes she had been digging. "What's yours?" I asked. "You know!" she exclaimed; "you know well enough. It's the treasure!" "Well," I said, "Uncle Abner invited me, too." "But I got here first!" she repeated vehemently. "You don't seem to have made much of your time," I suggested. She stooped and picked up her little shovel. "I don't need any help," she replied. "Another thing," said I. "I am not sure that you have any right to be digging here at all; the lawyer's letter said the only other person beside myself who knew about the treasure was a man named Graham Stewart." "A man named Graham Stewart?" I drew the letter from my pocket and showed her. "It doesn't say a _man_," she explained; "see, it only says '_namely_ Graham Stewart.'" "Never mind," said I, "Graham Stewart is a man's name. That's plain enough. And I don't know whether I ought to stand 'round and let you rob him this way." "This way!" she asked, pointing at her little diggings. "No, not precisely that way," I said, laughing. "You'll have to rob him worse than that or I don't believe he'll notice it." "Set your mind at rest," she snapped, "I am Graham Stewart myself!" "But Graham is a man's name," I protested. "Do you imagine I have been named Graham all these years," she said, "without knowing that! Don't you suppose that I get advertising circulars in every mail, addressed to _Mister_ Graham Stewart?' Don't you suppose men's tailors and men's haberdashers send me letters asking for my custom? That name has been a life-long horror to me! I can never make them believe that I don't want things like razors and Scotch Whiskey." "Well, it's a very pretty name," I said lamely. "By the way, don't you think you received me rather coldly, considering that we are cousins?" "We are _not_ cousins!" she cried. "Oh, yes," I said, "we are. We're sort of cousins anyhow." "But I don't want to be your cousin," she protested. "Oh," I said, "don't worry about that. Cousins can marry, especially if they are not first cousins." "That is impertinent!" she answered. "Really, I can't talk to you any longer," and she turned away as if to dig. "Very well," I said, moving off a step or two; "I am sorry, because I was just about to show you the spot where you ought to dig. Now I shall find it by myself." She gave a little start, but did not answer. I walked over to my late uncle's house and sitting in the shadow produced the map and appeared to study it, while the girl went on digging grimly.