This was not exactly true, for indeed she had taken a very good look at him. That was why she was arguing. “Oh you don’t understand,” she sneered. “You admit he has to watch his step—you said so. If a person is born to be loved and trusted and looked up to, do you suppose he has to watch his step? I think myself that maybe it would be much better if Mr. Slade stays in the hotel where he can _watch_ them.” No doubt Brent Gaylong could have put this learned young lady out of the ring with one of his whimsical knock-out blows, but poor Tom was visibly impressed. There is a type of young fellow predestined to fall victim to the highbrow type of girl. Tom, with all his prowess and wholesome intelligence, was simple and credulous. He felt that here was one who could see where he was blind. He realized how crude was his thinking in the light of Audry Ferris’ fine, discriminating vision. She was right, of course she was right. He was not big enough—whatever that meant.... “Well,” said he, “I’m going to live in the cottage if you’ll let me, that’s one thing sure.” “Maybe you’d be more contented over in the hotel,” Audry said. “It isn’t a question of where I’d be more contented,” he said. “You bet I’ll be more contented in the cottage with you—and Mr. Ferris. I think it would be best, too, just like you say.” “Oh, I didn’t say so,” the girl expostulated. “You’re right, anyway, that’s sure,” poor Tom vociferated. “And you’ll meet Miranda,” said Ferris. Tom was not curious. He felt that he did not care anything about meeting Miranda, whoever she was. He was quite satisfied with the girl who had made him see things as they really are.... And sure, thanks to her, his vision was now so clear, he scrutinized her rather more particularly as she stepped down from the buckboard when it stopped before a funny little cottage, under the shadow of the old hotel. She looked very winsome in her khaki knickers and high laced hiking boots. “She’s one clever girl,” poor Tom said to himself. CHAPTER XVI NEW FRIENDS If Audry Ferris “worshipped” people who are “big” she must have prostrated herself in adoration before the mammoth bulk of Miranda, the camp cook, who held sway in the cottage. No spiritual reasons had directed Miranda’s choice of this residence. She was there because she was there. And she was very much there. No white person ever was, or ever could be, as large in circumference as Miranda. To Tom the muslin girdle which encircled her waist seemed like the equator. “Some day when you have a little time take a trip around her,” said Ferris to Tom. The cottage, like the hotel, was held fast by iron rods reaching slantingways from the eaves all around and securely anchored in the rocks. The very security of these auxiliary holds gave one a feeling of insecurity that such outlandish makeshifts should be necessary to ensure the safety of a house.