“That moonlight sail was very close sailing indeed,” he said, his face full of a feeling that he did not try to hide.  “There was nearly a shipwreck, when—­when she steered wrong.”  And I remembered.

Then, with no great confidence in her mood, I went in search of my girl.  She is always unexpected, and a dead silence, when I had anxiously told my tale, was what I had not planned for.  After a minute,

“Well?” I asked.

And “Well?” answered Sally, with scarlet cheeks, but calmly.

“He is waiting for you down-stairs,” I said.

Then she acted in the foolish way that seemed natural.  She dropped on her knees and put her face against my shoulder.

“Cousin Mary!  I can’t!  It’s a strange man—­it isn’t our sailor any more.  I hate it.  I don’t like Englishmen.”

“He’s very much the same as yesterday,” I said.  “You needn’t like him if you don’t want to, but you must go and tell him so yourself.”  I think that was rather clever of me.

So, holding my hand and trembling, she went down.  When I saw Richard Leigh’s look as he stood waiting, I tried to loosen that clutching hand and leave them, but Sally, always different from any one else, held me tight.

“Cousin Mary, I won’t stay unless you stay,” she said, firmly.

I looked at the young man and he laughed.

“I don’t care.  I don’t care if all the world hears me,” he said, and he took a step forward and caught her hands.

Sally looked up at him.  “You’re a horrid lord or something,” she said.

He laughed softly.  “Do you mind?  I can’t help it.  It’s hard, but I want you to help me try to forget it.  I’d gladly he a sailor again if you’d like me better.”

“I did like you—­before you deceived me.  You pretended you were that.”

“But I have grievances too—­you said I was a queer little rat of a man.”

Sally’s laugh was gay but trembling.  “I did say that, didn’t I?”

“Yes, and you tried to underpay me, too.”

“Oh, I didn’t!  You charged a lot more than the others.”

Sir Richard shook his head firmly.  “Not nearly as much as the Revenge was worth.  I kept gangs of men scrubbing that boat till I nearly went into bankruptcy.  And, what’s more, you ought to keep your word, you know.  You said you were going to marry Richard Leigh—­Richard Grenville Cary Leigh is his whole name, you know.  Will you keep your word?”

“But I—­but you—­but I didn’t know,” stammered Sally, feebly.

He went on eagerly.  “You told me how he should wear his name—­high and—­and all that.”  He had no time for abstractions.  “He can never do it alone—­will you come and help him?”

Sally was palpably starching about for weapons to aid her losing fight.  “Why do you like me?  I’m not beautiful like Anne Ford.”  He laughed.  “I’m not rich, you know, like lots of American girls.  We’re very poor”—­she looked at him earnestly.