“That’s so.”  Seth was evidently relieved.  “All right,” he observed; “don’t you worry.  ’Twon’t be but a couple of months anyway, and we’ll fight it through together.  But ain’t it a shame!  Ain’t it an everlastin’ shame that this had to happen just as we’d come to understand each other and was so contented and friendly!  Well, there’s only one thing to do; that’s to make the best of it for us and the worst for them.  We’ll keep to ourselves and pay no attention to em no more’n if they wa’n’t there.  We’ll forget ’em altogether; hey? . . .  I say we’ll forget ’em altogether, won’t we?”

Brown’s answer was short and sharp.

“Yes,” he said, and slammed the door behind him.  Seth slowly shook his head before he laid it on the pillow.  He was not entirely easy in his mind, even yet.

However, there was no more spying, and the lightkeeper did not mention the bungalow tenants when he appeared at supper time.  After the meal he bolted to the lights, and was on watch in the tower when his helper retired.

Early the next afternoon Brown descended the path to the boathouse.  He had omitted his swim the day before.  Now, however, he intended to have it.  Simply because those female nuisances had seen fit to intrude where they had no business was no reason why he should resign all pleasure.  He gave a quick glance upward at the opposite bank as he reached the wharf.  There was no sign of life about the bungalow.

He entered the boathouse, undressed, and donned his bathing suit.  In a few minutes he was ready, and, emerging upon the wharf, walked briskly back along the shore of the creek to where it widened into the cove.  There he plunged in, and was soon luxuriating in the cool, clear water.

He swam with long, confident strokes, those of a practiced swimmer.  This was worth while.  It was the one place where he could forget that he was no longer the only son of a wealthy father, heir to a respected name—­which was not Brown—­a young man with all sorts of brilliant prospects; could forget that he was now a disinherited vagabond, a loafer who had been unable to secure a respectable position, an outcast.  He swam and dove and splashed, rejoicing in his strength and youth and the freedom of all outdoors.

Then, as he lay lazily paddling in deep water, he heard the rattle of gravel on the steep bank of the other side of the cove.  Looking up, he saw, to his huge disgust, a female figure in a trim bathing suit descending the bluff from the bungalow.  It was the girl who had left him to fight the wasps.  Her dark hair was covered with a jauntily tied colored handkerchief, and, against the yellow sand of the bluff, she made a very pretty picture.  Not that Brown was interested, but she did, nevertheless.

She saw him and waved a hand.  “Good morning,” she called.  “Beautiful day for a swim, isn’t it?”