Ichabod braced himself for the encounter. He felt that there was to be no shilly-shally now. Moreover, his backbone was amazingly stiffened by the five-thousand-dollar check. He meant business! Besides, it would never do to disappoint his new friends. He was going to make that honeymoon-trip, or "bust!" "Sarah," he began, "do ye remember as how in the old days I was always said to be a man o' very few words?" "Why, yes, Ichabod," Sarah agreed--perhaps a little doubtful, "come to think about it I believe you were. But what's agitating of you to-night? There seems to be something heavy-like on your mind." "Thar is, Sary--somethin' mighty big an' I reckin as how you'll think it sudden. But that's the only way to do--jest speak right plumb out an' have it over." His hearer paled slightly. She had a horrid suspicion that her lover had backslidden, that he meant to return to his hermit life on the Island, and was here now to jilt her. "Of course, ye understand that me an' you are promised to wed?" Ichabod went on. "Yes," came the faltered response. "Wall, thar ain't but one thing now as I see it that is a-standin' in the way, an' that is them-thar pre-nuptals you mentioned when I wanted to hurry things a leetle. Now, what I'm a-comin' to is this: I'm mighty well aware that them things takes time an' costs money. In lieu o' them as the lawyers say I'm servin' ye with this"--he extended the check--"an' we'll fix the hull thing up in the mornin', an' sail no'th in the evenin' on my New York friend's yacht, for our after-nuptals. But, consarn ye! thar's jest one other condition: Sure as shootin', ye'll have to pay our way back!" Sarah took the check to the light. She gasped as she read the four figures. There was awe in her voice as she pronounced the words aloud: "Five-thousand dollars!" Then, after a moment, she questioned seriously: "Ichabod, are ye goin' to build the addition on the hotel besides?" The old fisherman nodded emphatically. "That," he stoutly declared, "was a gentleman's promise!" Sarah capitulated. "Ichabod Jones, I ought to call you a triflin' rascal for starting in to scare me like you've done. Anyhow, I jest can't make it earlier than eleven-thirty. Will that do?" The fisherman's reply was to take Sarah in his arms. Roy and Van Dusen in the hotel lobby hailed the smack that followed as a signal of the wooer's success. CHAPTER XXV DOING HIS BIT