The big man sat down on a bleached log of driftwood and smiled at
her.

"No, I'm sorry to say that I haven't. But I have seen many other
very wonderful things. I might tell you about some of them, if
you would come over here and sit by me."

Rachel went unhesitatingly. When she reached him he pulled her
down on his knee, and she liked it.

"What a nice little craft you are," he said. "Do you suppose,
now, that you could give me a kiss?"

As a rule, Rachel hated kissing. She could seldom be prevailed
upon to kiss even her uncles--who knew it and liked to tease her
for kisses until they aggravated her so terribly that she told
them she couldn't bear men. But now she promptly put her arms
about this strange man's neck and gave him a hearty smack.

"I like you," she said frankly.

She felt his arms tighten suddenly about her. The blue eyes
looking into hers grew misty and very tender. Then, all at once,
Rachel knew who he was. He was her father. She did not say
anything, but she laid her curly head down on his shoulder and
felt a great happiness, as of one who had come into some
longed-for haven.

If David Spencer realized that she understood he said nothing.
Instead, he began to tell her fascinating stories of far lands he