"I've been hunting you all day," he cried. "I've got news." "A beat?" "Hardly," he laughed. "All the papers have it. That ought to give you a clue. Can't you guess?" "Not possibly." "Well--she'll have me." "Obviously you're imparting news of great moment," said Good severely. "I've seldom seen you look more completely idiotic. But I don't get you." "Why, you wooden-head--Molly Wolcott--me--we're engaged!" "Oh--I thought you had _news_. That's as stale as last year's election." Good laughed as he bantered, but the light shining in his eyes showed the tenderness of his feeling for the younger man. "You're a lucky kid." "Rather. But I earned it. She's had me over the hurdles more than once. I never had a swelled head with Molly in the neighbourhood. She always swore I'd never do." "What made her change?" "No idea. Woman's way, I guess." Good put his hand on Roger's shoulder, and his voice softened. "Poppycock," he said slowly. "She never changed. She was only waiting--" "What for?" "For you to grow up. You've been growing fast of late, my boy. The way you've taken hold here--it's been splendid. It's tickled your sister beyond words. And I guess--it's tickled someone else, eh?" "I guess you're about right," he said seriously. "I never was much of a fellow. But I never realised what a useless ass I was until I tried being useful. I came in here more on a lark than anything else. I never dreamed what a mess I could make of things. I thought I was pretty much of a man. I was going to look the ship over and then take up quarters on the bridge. I was going to give you and sis orders in no time. But it didn't take long to wake up. Why, I'm not even a decently capable boy. I tell you, Good, this thing has taught me--lots. It's been mighty hard--harder than you have any idea of. I've wanted to lie down and quit lots of times. Why, I--" "Why didn't you?" asked Good quietly. "Well--there was Molly. I knew it was good-bye Roger if I did. If there's one thing she hates, it's a yellow streak. Why, she--" "That wasn't the only reason, was it?" Good's eyes were very bright and keen. For a moment Roger looked puzzled. Then he hung his head and smiled. "No--it wasn't. I--oh, hang it--I don't want to seem a conceited ass--but--well--I'm not much for the yellow myself. I've never been a quitter in useless things--and--and--well, I just couldn't quit on this job. I just had to go through with it. Don't you understand?" "Yes--I understand." Good smiled, very tenderly. "There's one thing more. I...." Roger hesitated, and reddened slightly. "I don't know just how to put it into words, but I want to tell you that I feel I owe Molly and oh--everything--to you. I--oh, hang it--I--I...." He stammered and was silent, but he gripped Good's hand again and held it fast. The older man's eyes winked with suspicious rapidity, and he swallowed several times before he spoke. When he did there was a little tremble in his voice.