“You won't need,” said the man. “Here comes a Cape cart and two ancient swells in it. If they don't give you a seat, I'll smash the whole contrivance.”
“Oh!” cried Daireen joyfully; “it is papa—papa himself.”
“Not the party with the brass buttons?” said the man. “All right, I'll hail them.”
Colonel Gerald sprang from the Cape cart in which he was driving with the commodore of the naval station.
“Good God, Daireen, what does this mean?” he cried, looking from the girl to the man beside her.
But Daireen, regardless of her dripping condition, threw herself into his arms, and the stranger turned away whistling. He reached the road and shook his head confidentially at the commodore, who was standing beside the Cape cart.
“Touching thing to be a father, eh, Admiral?” he said.
“Stop, sir,” said the commodore. “You must wait till this is explained.”
“Must I?” said the man. “Who is there here that will keep me?”
“What can I say to you, sir?” cried Colonel Gerald, coming up and holding out his hand to the stranger. “I have no words to thank you.”