"No," he said, "not till I'm ready. Now, keep your seat or we'll
both drown; this ain't a ferry-boat." After a few strokes, he added,
"We'll never get along together unless you tame that temper."

"We're not going to get along together, Mr. Runnion--only as far as
the Mission. I dare say you can tolerate me until then, can you
not?" She said this bitingly.

"Stark told me to board the first boat for St. Michael's," he said,
disregarding her sarcasm, "but I've made a few plans of my own the
last hour or so."

"St. Michael's! Mr. Stark told you--why, that's impossible! You
misunderstood him. He told you to row me to the Mission. I'm going
to Father Barnum's house."

"No, you're not, and I didn't misunderstand him. He wants to get you
outside, all right, but I reckon you'd rather go as Mrs. Runnion
than as the sweetheart of Ben Stark."

"Are you crazy?" the girl cried. "Mr. Stark kindly offered to help
me reach the Father at his Mission. I'm nothing to him, and I'm
certainly not going to be anything to you. If I'd known you were
going to row the boat, I should have stayed at home, because I
detest you."

"You'll get over that."

"I'm not in the humor for jokes."