“I was just saying good-by to Miss Nott,” said Renshaw, hastily regaining his composure with an effort.  “I am going to Sacramento to-night, and will not return.  I”—­

“In course, in course,” interrupted Nott, soothingly; “that’s wot you say now, and that’s wot you allow to do.  That’s wot they allus do.”

“I mean,” said Renshaw, reddening at what he conceived to be an allusion to the absconding propensities of Nott’s previous tenants,—­“I mean that you shall keep the advance to cover any loss you might suffer through my giving up the rooms.”

“Certingly,” said Nott, laying his hand with a large sympathy on Renshaw’s shoulder; “but we’ll drop that just now.  We won’t swap hosses in the middle of the river.  We’ll square up accounts in your room,” he added, raising his voice that Rosey might overhear him, after a preliminary wink at the young man.  “Yes, sir, we’ll just square up and settle in there.  Come along, Mr. Renshaw.”  Pushing him with paternal gentleness from the cabin, with his hand still upon his shoulder, he followed him into the passage.  Half annoyed at his familiarity, yet not altogether displeased by this illustration of Rosey’s belief of his preference, Renshaw wonderingly accompanied him.  Nott closed the door, and pushing the young man into a chair, deliberately seated himself at the table opposite.  “It’s jist as well that Rosey reckons that you and me is settlin’ our accounts,” he began, cunningly, “and mebbee it’s just ez well ez she should reckon you’re goin’ away.”

“But I am going,” interrupted Renshaw, impatiently.  “I leave to-night.”

“Surely, surely,” said Nott, gently, “that’s wot you kalkilate to do; that’s just nat’ral in a young feller.  That’s about what I reckon I’d hev done to her mother if anythin’ like this hed ever cropped up, which it didn’t.  Not but what Almiry Jane had young fellers enough round her, but, ’cept ole Judge Peter, ez was lamed in the War of 1812, there ain’t no similarity ez I kin see,” he added, musingly.

“I am afraid I can’t see any similarity either, Mr. Nott,” said Renshaw, struggling between a dawning sense of some impending absurdity and his growing passion for Rosey.  “For Heaven’s sake, speak out if you’ve got anything to say.”

Mr. Nott leaned forward and placed his large hand on the young man’s shoulder.  “That’s it.  That’s what I sed to myself when I seed how things were pintin’.  ‘Speak out,’ sez I, ’Abner!  Speak out if you’ve got anything to say.  You kin trust this yer Mr. Renshaw.  He ain’t the kind of man to creep into the bosom of a man’s ship for pupposes of his own.  He ain’t a man that would hunt round until he discovered a poor man’s treasure, and then try to rob’”—­

“Stop!” said Renshaw, with a set face and darkening eyes. “What treasure? what man are you speaking of?”

“Why Rosey and Mr. Ferrers,” returned Nott, simply.

Renshaw sank into his seat again.  But the expression of relief which here passed swiftly over his face gave way to one of uneasy interest as Nott went on.