"No!" said the stranger, softly. "Name is Jim!"
A good supper had Giorgios Aristides Evangelides Paparipopoulos, alias Jim, that night! There was more omelette than Miss Palmyra could possibly eat, she declared; indeed, Jim had meant that there should be. Then she told him where to find a certain loaf of spice cake, and a jar of damson jam; and she insisted upon his eating till he could eat no more. After a week of salted backbone of hog, Jim's appetite for these good things was keen enough.
He beamed with pleasure; his smiles made noonday in the darkening kitchen: Miss Palmyra thought him uncommonly handsome. Only—it was a pity he wore ear-rings. And, after all, who was he? She really must find out.
"You've never told me how you kem to know of my bein' lame!" she said, as her guest was washing the dishes with careful nicety. "You a stranger here, too! Who did send ye, if I'm not takin' a liberty?"
"Ze honourable captains send me," said Jim, with open cheerfulness; "and ze selected gentlemen."
"Well, I'm sure!" ejaculated Miss Palmyra.
"I steal your hen!" Jim explained, with winning grace. "Was very sorry; should not have done—but! Now I work t'ree mont'; do shores for ladies; do all works. But for you I work most, for I steal your hen. Is it not?" And putting away the cups and saucers, he swept the hearth with ardour.
"Well, I'm sure!" said Miss Palmyra again; and she really could not think of anything else to say.
Everyone agreed that it was a special providence that Jim Popples (such being the popular rendering of our hero's name) had been cast away on the Island just when there was so much sickness "goin' about," and when Aunt Ruhamy Snell, the accredited nurse of the Island, was laid up with rheumatism The quick, active Greek was here, there and everywhere. He split wood, he made fires, he milked cows. He mended chairs, and set panes of glass; he kept all the children happy by plaiting wonderful things out of twine, and whittling royal navies with his jackknife.