“Write care of the ‘Consternation’ in England.”

“But Jack told me that the ‘Consternation’ paid off as soon as she arrived, and probably he will have gone to Russia.”

“If you address him at the Admiralty in London, the letter will be forwarded whereever he happens to be.”

“How do you know?”

“I have heard that such is the case.”

“But you’re not sure, and I want to be certain.”

“Are you really in love with him, Kate?”

“Of course I am.  You know that very well, and I don’t want any stupid misapprehension to arise at the beginning, such as allows a silly author to carry on his story to the four-hundredth page of such trash as this,” and she gently touched with her toe the unoffending volume which lay on the ground beneath the hammock.

“Then why not adopt your father’s suggestion, and cable?  It isn’t you who are cabling, you know.”

“I couldn’t consent to that.  It would look as if we were in a hurry, wouldn’t it?”

“Then let me cable.”

“You?  To whom?”

“Hand me up that despised book, Kate, and I’ll write my cablegram on the fly-leaf.  If you approve of the message, I’ll go to the hotel, and send it at once.”

Katherine gave her the book, and lent the little silver pencil which hung jingling, with other trinkets, on the chain at her belt.  Dorothy scribbled a note, tore out the fly-leaf, and presented it to Katherine, who read: 

“Alan Drummond, Bluewater Club, Pall Mall, London.  Tell Lamont that his letter to Captain Kempt was delayed, and did not reach the Captain until to-day.  Captain Kempt’s reply will be sent under cover to you at your club.  Arrange for forwarding if you leave England.

Dorothy Amhurst.”

When Katherine finished reading she looked up at her friend, and exclaimed:  “Well!” giving that one word a meaning deep as the clear pool on whose borders she stood.

Dorothy’s face reddened as if the sinking western sun was shining full upon it.

“You write to one another, then?”

“Yes.”

“And is it a case of—­”

“No; friendship.”

“Sure it is nothing more than that?”

Dorothy shook her head.

“Dorothy, you are a brick; that’s what you are.  You will do anything to help a friend in trouble.”

Dorothy smiled.

“I have so few friends that whatever I can do for them will not greatly tax any capabilities I may possess.”

“Nevertheless, Dorothy, I thoroughly appreciate what you have done.  You did not wish any one to know you were corresponding with him, and yet you never hesitated a moment when you saw I was anxious.”

“Indeed, Kate, there was nothing to conceal.  Ours is a very ordinary exchange of letters.  I have only had two:  one at Bar Harbor a few days after he left, and another longer one since we came to the hotel, written from England.”