"How can I get it to you?"

"Put on your morning gown and come to my door."

I did so, with the cake of soap in my hand and met my companion, somewhat similarly arrayed, holding out a bare arm. She did look to my eyes at that moment wonderfully pretty.

"Come, Marjorie," I said, dropping into the affectionate form, "you might let me in for a minute or two. You don't know how becoming that attire is."

"I know all about it. I've been looking in the gla.s.s. Hurry up and finish dressing. I will meet you on the veranda."

Wesson came along at that moment with Eggert and smiled. I resented that smile. It meant a hundred things that he had no right to surmise; besides, they weren't true.

"It is perfectly lovely here," he commented, to Eggert as much as to me.

"My friend Camwell has not misrepresented it in the least."

"Camran," corrected Eggert, for which I could have punched his head.

Were they going to argue that point over between them?

"Camran, I should have said," corrected Wesson. "Could I make arrangements to come out here and board while I remain on the island?"

"d.a.m.n!" I exclaimed, under my breath, but Marjorie heard me through the part.i.tion.

"What is the matter?" she asked, sympathetically. "Has something p.r.i.c.ked you, too?"

"Yes," I said, for the couple on the veranda had moved out of hearing.

"Something I don't like. What do you think that confounded Wesson is saying to Eggert?"

"I don't know."

"He wants to come out here and board."

"Well, that idea does credit to his judgment."

"But it will put me to lots of bother."

"I don't see how."

"Why, if he moves out here, you and I will have to move up to the town."

She digested this statement for a while, during which she put the finishing touches to her toilet. Then she asked if I was in suitable condition for her to come to my door.

"Come and see," I retorted. "I've got on much more than either of us had when we strolled down to the beach an hour ago. I think I heard somebody say yesterday that there was no need of being too prudish."

"But at that time I wasn't feeling well."

"And at this time I'm feeling devilish bad, myself."

She came slowly, with little stops, at which she renewed her inquiries and asked for fuller information. When she finally arrived I proved to be completely dressed with the exception of the tie and a morning coat, and we had a laugh together.

"You didn't really mean that you would leave here just on account of Mr.

Wesson's coming?" she said, interrogatively, as she arranged the tie.

"Yes," I replied, holding up my head to give her fingers full play. Her breath was in my nostrils, sweet breath that made me think of meadows and new-mown hay.

"What harm can he do us?"

"He'll be continually in the way."

"He seems very polite always."

"That's just the trouble," I snarled. "If he would only get ugly I could have it out with him in a minute. If he would keep at one end of the veranda while we were at the other, all would be well. He won't do that.

He'll be good natured, sociable, all that sort of hateful thing. The quarantine grounds measure only five acres and there's not room enough here for any other man, while it is your residence."

She was so near that I could have s.n.a.t.c.hed a kiss before she could stop me. I would almost as soon have bitten her.

"Eggert?" she said, tentatively. "He's got to go, too, then?"

"No, I make an exception of Eggert. But Wesson--I simply can't have him here. Either he must go, or I shall."

We had pa.s.sed the coffee hour, forgetting it in the pleasure of the bath and the labor of dressing. The regular breakfast was now announced. I determined to be as agreeable to Wesson as I could, but I did not think Eggert need to have placed him on the other side of Marjorie, next to her. Still, how was he to know?

"I have been talking with our host about coming out here for awhile,"

said Wesson, as we were breakfasting. "It is ever so much pleasanter than in the town."

He must have seen, in spite of my efforts, that I did not enthuse over the idea, for all I could say was "Ah," and wait for him to proceed.

"I hardly think I will do it, though," Wesson went on to say, eyeing me narrowly. "I have a very comfortable room at the hotel. If you don't mind my coming out for a stroll occasionally"--he looked alternately at Miss May and at me--"I think it would help me get over my lonesomeness."

Marjorie did not wait to consult me, but said she was sure he would always be welcome. She added that some literary work she and I had to do would keep us very busy for the present. To my joy, Wesson settled his plans on the spot, as he had outlined them. We were to be left alone, after all.

Soon after rising from the table Wesson started back to town. I hoped as I saw his form disappear that he did not think I had been discourteous in not endorsing his scheme to make my life a burden.

"Now," said Marjorie, brightly, as he vanished through the gate, "let us get to work. You can't imagine how happy I shall be to find myself of use after this long vacation."

I got out the memoranda required, from the bottom of a trunk, and arranged the writing machine on a little "dressmaker's table" which I had brought, folded up in a tray. It was exactly the right height, and took up hardly more room than a chess board--I mean the table, of course. For an hour I tried to put the genealogy in shape, and then threw it up with an exclamation of disgust.

"Confound the thing! I'm going to drop it for to-day," I said. "It's dryer than dust."

Marjorie obediently put away the machine at my suggestion, saying that perhaps we would begin again after lunch. I told her that the next three hours after lunch were sacred to Morpheus, and that we were now in a region where it was impossible to resist the drowsy G.o.d with impunity.

We drew our rocking chairs together and talked, and I was very happy.

Sometimes I took one of her hands in mine. It was very sweet to have her there.

"It is going to be dull for you," I suggested, after a time. "Whenever you can bear it no longer say so, and we will move on."

"I am in your employ," she answered, "and shall stay or go, as you bid me."

"Marjorie," I exclaimed, suddenly, "have you ever been in love?"

"I would rather talk on some other subject," she replied, soberly.