“Why, of course!” he cried.  “You are the young man who was so kind to me when I got off at the wrong station.  You are the station man at—­ah—­at South Wellmouth, isn’t it?”

“That’s right.”

“Dear me!  Dear me!  Well, I don’t wonder you were surprised to have me—­ah—­alight at your feet just now.  We-ll,” with his quiet smile, “I seem to have a habit of making unexpected appearances.  I surprised Miss Phipps on Friday evening almost as greatly.”

“Miss Phipps?  Martha Phipps, Cap’n Jim’s daughter; lives over here by the light, do you mean?”

“Why—­why, yes her name is Martha, I believe.”

“But how in the world did you get—­”

His companion interrupted him.  “Why, Nelson,” she cried, “he must be the one—­the man who is staying at Martha’s.  Don’t you know I told you Primmie said there was some one there who was sick?”

Galusha looked at her.  She was young, not more than nineteen or twenty, slender, brown-haired and pretty.  The young man spoke again.

“But Lulie,” he said, “he isn’t sick.  You aren’t sick, are you?” addressing Galusha.

“My health has not been good of late,” replied the latter, “and after my long walk on Friday evening I was rather done up.  But I’m not ill at present, although,” with a return of his faint smile, “I probably shall be if I continue to—­ah—­fly, as I did just now.”

The young woman broke into an irresistible trill of laughter.  The South Wellmouth station agent joined her.  Galusha smiled in a fatherly fashion upon them both.

“I had quite a series of adventures after leaving you,” he went on.  “Quite a series—­yes.”

He told briefly of his losing his way, of his meeting with Raish Pulcifer, of his tramp in the rain, and of his collapse in the Phipps’ sitting room.

“So that is—­ah—­my Odyssey,” he concluded.  “You see, we—­ah—­I beg your pardon, but I don’t know that I learned your name when we met the other day.  Mine is Bangs.”

“Pleased to meet you, Mr. Bangs.  My name is Howard—­Nelson Howard.  And this is—­”

He paused.  The young woman was regarding him in a troubled way.

“Nelson,” she said, “don’t you think, perhaps, we had better not—­”

They were both embarrassed.  Galusha noticed the embarrassment.

“Dear me!  Dear me!” he said, hastily.  “Please don’t trouble.  Ah—­good-morning.  I must go—­really—­yes.”

He was on his way toward the bank, but the young woman called his name.

“Mr. Bangs,” she said.

He turned.  “Did you—­did you wish to speak to me?” he asked.

“Why—­why, yes, I—­ Mr. Bangs, I—­I want to ask a favor of you.  I know, Nelson, but what is the use, after all?  We’ve done nothing to be ashamed of.  Mr. Bangs, my name is Hallett.  My father is the keeper of the lighthouse.”

Galusha bowed.  He had guessed her identity.  Primmie had spoken of Lulie Hallett in their conversation by the fence the day before.