larger than a toy ship's. Then I sat down and cried, and had no care
that the negro slave and servant, Ubbo, saw me.

Mr. Cunningham came and sat beside me. "Guy," he said, "don't worry
about him. He'll come through all right. He has great qualities in him."

"He's good, too--too good to me."

"Great and good," exclaimed Shiela. "He could love and was lovable. And
what's all your greatness to that?"

It may be that she who knew him least understood him best. She was
crying too.

When her great square foresails were no more than a gull's wing on the
hazy horizon we waved her a last salute. Then we made our way to the
creek and sailed up Back River, past Savannah, and on to Villard
Landing. And hand in hand Shiela and I walked up between the row of
moss-hung cypress trees to the manor-house and--Home.




Don Quixote Kieran, Pump-Man


He came into the outer office of the great oil company, and through the
half-open door of his private office the new superintendent observed the
stimulating style of his entrance. Looking for work, no doubt of that,
but not looking like a man who was apologizing for it; and that in