A soft glow shone out from the skylights to welcome them as they approached the sloop. When, laughing gaily, they clambered on board, Carroll led the way to the tiny saloon, which just held them all. It was brightly lighted by two nickeled lamps; flowers were fastened against the paneling, and clusters of them stood upon the table, which was covered with a spotless cloth. What was even more unusual, it was daintily set out with good china and silver. Vane took the head of it, and Carroll modestly explained that only part of the supper had been prepared by himself. The rest he had obtained in the city, out of regard for the guests, who, he added, had not lived in the bush. Presently Vane, who had been busy talking to the others, turned to Celia.
"Now that we can see each other better, I think you ought to recognize me, Miss Hartley."
The girl was young and attractive, and she blushed prettily.
"I do, of course; but I thought I'd wait until I saw whether you remembered me."
"Why should you wait?"
Celia looked confused.
"It's two or three years since I've seen you; and I've left that place."
Vane laughed. He had made her acquaintance at a workman's hotel where she was engaged, when he was differently situated, and he fancied that she was diffident about recalling the fact, now that he was obviously prosperous.
"Well," he responded, "it's only fair that I should give you supper, for once. I've always had an idea that you brought me more dessert than I was really entitled to."
"It was because you were—civil," Celia explained, though her expression suggested that the word did not convey all she meant. "Still, I can't complain of the rest of the boys."