“Mr. Larned,” he said, “I’ve got something for you.”

And, with a kindly smile, he took from his pocket and handed over a large, warm baked potato.  The Texan eagerly accepted the gift.

“Where’d you get it?” he demanded, breaking open his treasure.

“That’s a secret,” West answered.  “But I can get as many as I want.  Mr. Larned, I can say this—­you will not go hungry any longer.  And there’s something else I ought to speak of.  I am sort of aiming to marry your daughter.”

Deep in his potato the Congressman spoke: 

“What does she say about it?”

“Oh, she says there isn’t a chance.  But—­”

“Then look out, my boy!  She’s made up her mind to have you.”

“I’m glad to hear you say that.  I really ought to tell you who I am.  Also, I want you to know that, before your daughter and I met, I wrote her seven letters—­”

“One minute,” broke in the Texan.  “Before you go into all that, won’t you be a good fellow and tell me where you got this potato?”

West nodded.

“Sure!” he said; and, leaning over, he whispered.

For the first time in days a smile appeared on the face of the older man.

“My boy,” he said, “I feel I’m going to like you.  Never mind the rest.  I heard all about you from your friend Gray; and as for those letters—­they were the only thing that made the first part of this trip bearable.  Marian gave them to me to read the night we came on board.”

Suddenly from out of the clouds a long-lost moon appeared, and bathed that over-crowded ocean liner in a flood of silver.  West left the old man to his potato and went to find the daughter.

She was standing in the moonlight by the rail of the forward deck, her eyes staring dreamily ahead toward the great country that had sent her forth light-heartedly for to adventure and to see.  She turned as West came up.

“I have just been talking with your father,” he said.  “He tells me he thinks you mean to take me, after all.”  She laughed.

“To-morrow night,” she answered, “will be our last on board.  I shall give you my final decision then.”

“But that is twenty-four hours away!  Must I wait so long as that?”

“A little suspense won’t hurt you.  I can’t forget those long days when I waited for your letters—­”

“I know!  But can’t you give me—­just a little hint—­here —­to-night?”

“I am without mercy—­absolutely without mercy!”

And then, as West’s fingers closed over her hand, she added softly:  “Not even the suspicion of a hint, my dear—­except to tell you that—­my answer will be—­yes.”