Betsy appeared in the door behind us.
“All ready, be you?” she asked.
I could not have answered, but my companion was once more as calm and cool as the morning itself.
“All ready,” she answered. “Good-by, Mrs. Atwood. And thank you over and over again. You have been so kind.” With a sudden flash of enthusiasm. “Every one is kind. It is a beautiful world. Good-by.”
She ran lightly down the slope and I followed.
The trip to Wellmouth was of but a half hour's duration. Atwood talked all the time. Miss Colton laughed at his stories and seemed to be without a care. She scarcely looked at me during the passage, and if she caught me looking at her and our glances met she turned away. On the wharf was a big automobile, surrounded by a gaping crowd of small boys and 'longshore loafers.
We drew up beside the landing. Our feminine passenger sprang ashore and ran up the steps, to be seized in her father's arms. Mrs. Colton was there also, babbling hysterically. I watched and listened for a moment. Then I started the engine.
“Shove off,” I ordered. The lightkeeper was astonished.
“Ain't ye goin' ashore?” he demanded.
“No,” I answered, curtly. “I'm going home. Shove off.”