"I don't want you to tell anybody that I leave the boat here," I said, flourishing a five dollar bill in his face. "Now, mind!"
He promised. The baggage came duly up and two boats were engaged to take us directly to Eggert's.
With the lightest heart I had known for a year, I helped my fair companion down and heard the oars of our negro boatmen splash in the waters of the harbor.
CHAPTER XIII.
BATHING IN THE SURF.
There was something really delightful in the way Eggert received me. (I am not going to put "Mister" before his name—even his wife does not do that, in ordinary conversation.) He heard "Laps," the dog, barking violently and came to the veranda to ascertain the reason.
"Do you know me?" I asked.
"Know you!" he said, grasping both my hands heartily, and looking from me to Miss May. "Of course, I know you. Where did you come from? I am so happy to see you again!"
I introduced my "cousin," and he gave her as cordial greeting as he had given me.