Randy, in his room, laughed at the thought of work. What did hardness matter? The thing that really mattered was that he had treasure to lay at the feet of Becky. He sat down at the desk to write to her, cheeks flushed, eyes bright, a hand that shook with excitement. "I am to meet a lot of big fellows to-morrow--I shall feel like an ugly duckling among the swans--oh, the _swans_, Becky, did we ever think that the Trumpeter in his old glass case----" The telephone rang. Randy, answering it, found Madge at the other end. There was an exchange of eager question and eager answer. Then Randy hung up the receiver, tore up his note to Becky, asked the office about trains, packed his bag, and went swift in a taxi to the station. It was not until he was safe in his sleeper, and racketing through the night, that he remembered the meeting with the literary swans and the editor with the shell-rimmed glasses. A telegram would convey his regrets. He was sorry that he could not meet them, but he had on hand a more important matter. CHAPTER XVI THE CONQUEROR I If Randy's train had not missed a connection, he would have caught the same boat that took the Admiral and his party back to the island. They motored down to Wood's Hole, and boarded the _Sankaty_, while Randy, stranded at New Bedford, was told there would not be another steamer out until the next day. The Admiral was the only gay and apparently care-free member of his quartette. Becky felt unaccountably depressed. Louise sat in the cabin and worked on her green bag. There was a heavy sky and signs of a storm. It was not pleasant outside. Archibald was nursing a grievance. "If your grandfather had only stayed over another day." "He had written Tristram that we would come. He is very exact in his engagements." "And he feels that fifty years in 'Sconset is better than a cycle anywhere else." "Yes. It will be nice to get back to our little gray house, and the moor, don't you think?" "Yes. But I wanted to show you Boston as if you had never seen it, and now I shall never show it." They were on deck, wrapped up to their chins. "Tell me what you would have shown me," Becky said; "play that I am Olga and that you are telling me about it." He looked down at her. "Well, you've just arrived. You aren't dressed in a silver-toned cloak with gray furs and a blue turban with a silver edge. That's a heavenly outfit, Becky. But what made you wear it on a day like this?" "It is the silver lining to my--cloud," demurely; "dull clothes are dreadful when the sky is dark." "I am not sure but I liked you better in your brown--in the rain with your hand on my arm---- That is--unforgettable----" She brought him back to Olga. "I have just arrived----" "Yes, and you have a shawl over your head, and a queer old coat and funny shoes. I should have to speak to you through an interpreter, and you would look at me with eager eyes or perhaps frightened ones."