Pinkey turned nearly white.  “Marry her!” he exclaimed, “Why, I’m engaged to a girl back home.”

“Why, I never intended to marry her,” he went on, more concerned than at any time before.  “I was just having a little flirtation.”

A little flirtation!  By the powers that be!  My country had progressed if it had come to the place where a man could swear allegiance to one woman, then blithely sail the seas to find heaven in another woman’s eyes!

My few days’ experience with a girl had set me more problems than I ever found in arithmetic.  This boy was a whole algebra, and they both belonged to my country where I thought rearing children was like growing flowers.  Not only were things happening, I was learning new lessons faster than I really cared for.  I asked him if Zura knew of his engagement.

“No,” he replied as he walked restlessly about, “I just met her coming over.  She isn’t in love with me and I don’t trouble others with my private affairs.”

“Really!  I am afraid your manly self-control will cause Zura many a heart ache.  I know of nothing more contemptible than being engaged to one girl and flirting with another.”

“Most men do it,” he answered sullenly.

“I don’t believe you, boy, and it will take more proof than you can furnish to convince me that the men of my country have so low a standard of honor.”  I put a heavy accent on “men.”

My guest flushed.  “Well, I like that!  What do you call me?”

“A thoughtless boy,” I said.  “But if you want to be a man, here’s your chance.  You go right back to your ship; write to Zura; tell her of your engagement and why you cannot see her any more; then stay away.”

I knew as little about men as I did about fashion, but I plunged on.  “What do you think the girl back home would think?  Suppose somebody treated her as you have treated Zura?  Shame on you, boy!  Be a man and help an old woman as well as a young one.”

The desire to have his own way died hard, but something conquered.  “I’ll do it!  Just watch me,” he said at last, a certain bravado accompanying his words.

I could see that he was much disturbed by our interview.  He rose and moved towards the gate.  His effort to live up to his newly-awakened manhood was boyish, but sincere.

He whirled about suddenly and said, “Miss Jenkins, I apologize to you and Zura.  I—­I’m awfully sorry.  Zura is such a jolly chum, and she was very lonely; I wasn’t any too gay myself at leaving home.  But, honestly, I didn’t mean to make it hard for her.  I—­I didn’t think.  Please tell her.”

Impulsively he took my hand and lightly kissed it.  But for his earnestness I would have thought it impudent.  He was soon gone.

* * * * *

“Where’s Pink Tommy?” cried Zura, as I entered the living-room.

“Where’s Mr. Hanaford?” I questioned back.

“Why, he took his book and left.  Didn’t you say he was in a hurry?”