a new and amazing diffidence, she composed and altered a dozen times, at
last addressing the following in a large, school-girl hand: "Sir, I obey
your commands to the last. Whatever your oppressors or enemies may do,
you can always rely and trust upon She who in deepest sympathy signs
herself ever, Mollie Rosalie MacEwan." The substitution of her maiden
name in full seemed in her simplicity to be a delicate exclusion of
her husband from the affair, and a certain disguise of herself to alien
eyes. The superscription, "To Mrs. Marion MacEwan from Mollie Bunker, to
be called for by hand at Todos Santos," also struck her as a marvel of
ingenuity. The package was safely and punctually delivered by Zephas,
who brought back a small packet directed to her, which on private
examination proved to contain a letter addressed to "J. E. Kirby, to
be called for," with the hurried line: "A thousand thanks, W. M." Mrs.
Bunker drew a long, quick breath. He might have written more; he might
have--but the wish remained still unformulated. The next day she ran up
a signal; the same boat and solitary rower appeared around the Point,
and took the package. A week later, when her husband was ready for sea,
she again hoisted her signal. It brought a return package for Mexico,
which she inclosed and readdressed, and gave to her husband. The
recurrence of this incident apparently struck a bright idea from the
simple Zephas.

"Look here, Mollie, why don't you come YOURSELF and see your aunt. I
can't go into port without a license, and them port charges cost a heap
o' red tape, for they've got a Filibuster scare on down there just
now, but you can go ashore in the boat and I'll get permission from the
Secretary to stand off and wait for you there for twenty-four hours."
Mrs. Bunker flushed and paled at the thought. She could see him! The
letter would be sufficient excuse, the distrust suggested by her husband
would give color to her delivering it in person. There was perhaps a