"What do you make of that chap?" Congdon asked as the Governor strolled away, swinging a stick, and disappeared at the end of the street.
"He talks like a nonsense book," Archie replied. "I hope he won't become a nuisance!"
"A cheerful soul, I should call him. He's likely to make the place more tolerable."
When Congdon pleaded weariness Archie put him to bed and then sauntered away, following a dirt road that wound through the timber. In a little while he came upon the Governor lying with his back against a tree, reading Horace.
"You arrive most opportunely!" he said, without lifting his eyes from the book. "I was pining for some one to read this ode to."
He not only read the ode but expounded it, dwelling upon felicities that had eluded him before. With countless questions crying for answer Archie was obliged to feign interest in the poem until the Governor thrust the book into his pocket with a sigh and led the way to the beach.
"Well, you landed him here!" he remarked, seating himself on a log and producing his pipe. "Or did he bring you? One would think you were old chums to see you together. Not a bad fellow, I should say."
"He's really a good sort," said Archie; "but I'll tell you the whole story."
The Governor listened placidly, interrupting only when Archie repeated what Congdon had said of Isabel.
"A wonderful girl!" he ejaculated. "Makes it her business to tease the world along. Laughing in her sleeve all the time. I must say it's odd that both you and Congdon should be the victims of her wiles. My burdens are heavier than I knew, for I've got to get you both out of your scrapes."