Miss Chalmers sprang upon the wharf without aid and demanded her trunks. The boatman heaved them out methodically. He paused for an instant to study an inscription on the end of a particularly bulky and heavy one, and, when he had difficulty in deciphering it, reached for the lantern. He read:
ROSALIND CHALMERS, N.Y.
Then the trunk followed its mates.
"Anything more I can do?" he asked pleasantly.
"I should say not! I owe you something, I suppose?"
"Well, rather."
"How much?"
"Ten dollars."
"Ten dollars!" cried Miss Chalmers. "For what happened? After all that— Why, it's—"
She snapped her purse open and handed him a bill with an angry gesture. In fact she flung it at him. Anything to be rid of him, she thought. He pocketed the money with a chuckle.