He straightened himself and looked at her. Her face and hands were
shining, spotless. The change was so great that his brow wrinkled with
perplexity.

"I am a good pupil," she cried. "You see I am already learning to help
myself. I made a bucket out of one of the dish-covers by slinging it in
two ropes. Another dish-cover, some sand and leaves supplied basin,
soap, and towel. I have cleaned the tin cups and the knives, and see,
here is my greatest treasure."

She held up a small metal lamp.

"Where in the world did you find that?" he exclaimed.

"Buried in the sand inside the cave."

"Anything else?"

His tone was abrupt She was so disappointed by the seeming want of
appreciation of her industry that a gleam of amusement died from her
eyes and she shook her head, stooping at once to attend to the toasting
of some biscuits.

This time he was genuinely sorry.

"Forgive me, Miss Deane," he said penitently. "My words are dictated by
anxiety. I do not wish you to make discoveries on your own account.
This is a strange place, you know--an unpleasant one in some respects."

"Surely I can rummage about my own cave?"