“Several, if the weather proves propitious.  I shall play the fisherman hero, or the villain, until my manager has my new play ready in the fall.  Believe me, Miss Grayling, I am not in love with this picture drama.  But when one is offered for his resting season half as much again as he can possibly earn during the run of a legitimate Broadway production he must not be blamed for accepting the contract.  We all bow to the power of gold.”

Louise, whose gaze was fixed upon the approaching sloop, smiled.  She was thinking; “All but Lawford Tapp, the philosophic fisherman!”

“I believe,” Bane said, with flattery, “that I should delight to play opposite to you, Miss Grayling, rank amateur though you would be.  This Anscomb really is a wonderful director and gets surprising results from material that cannot compare with you.  I’ll speak to him if you say the word.  He’d oblige me, I am sure.  One of the scripts he has told me about has a part fitted to you.”

“Oh, Mr. Bane!” she cried.  “I’d have to think about that, I fear.  And such a tempting offer!  Now, if you said that to Gusty Durgin——­”

At the moment Betty Gallup came into view.  Masculine in appearance at any time in her man’s hat and coat, she was doubly so now.  She frankly wore overalls, but had drawn a short skirt over them; and she wore gum boots.  Bane stared at this apparition and gasped: 

“Is—­is it a man—­or what?”

“Why, Mr. Bane!  That is my chaperon.”

“Chaperon!  Ye gods and little fishes!  Miss Grayling, no matter where you go, or with whom, you are perfectly safe with that as a chaperon.”

“How rediculous, Mr. Bane!” the girl cried, laughing.  Betty strode through the sand to the spot where they stood.  “This is Mr. Bane, Betty,” Louise continued, “Mrs. Gallup, Mr. Bane.”

The actor swept off his sou’wester with a flourish.  Betty eyed him with disfavor.

“So you’re one o’ them play-actors, be you?  Land sakes!  And tryin’ to look like a fisherman, too!  I don’t s’pose you know a grommet from the bight of a hawser.”

“Guilty as charged,” Bane admitted with a chuckle.  “But we all must live, Mrs. Gallup.”

“Humph!” grunted the old woman.  “Are you sure that’s so in ev’ry case?  There’s more useless folks on the Cape now than the Recordin’ Angel can well take care on.”

“Oh, Betty!” Louise gasped.

But Bane was highly amused.  “I’m not at all sure you’re not right, Mrs. Gallup.  I sometimes feel that if I were a farmer and raised onions, or a fisherman and caught the denizens of the sea, I might feel a deeper respect for myself.  As it is, when I work I am only playing.”

“Humph!” exploded Betty again. “‘Denizens of the sea,’ eh?  New one on me.  I ain’t never heard of them fish afore.”

The sail of the sloop slatted and then came down with the rattle of new canvas.  Having let go the sheet, Lawford ran forward and pitched the anchor over.  Then he drew in the skiff that trailed the Merry Andrew, stepped in, and sculled himself ashore, beaching the boat, just as Cap’n Amazon came down from the store with a second basket of supplies.