"Don't be frightened," said the big fellow, smiling down upon her. "You surely have not forgotten your father's friend, who used to hold you on his knee and tell you stories, and bring you books from the city."
"Mr. Updyke!" gasped Winifred, looking guiltily into his smiling face, then suddenly she exclaimed—"I've seen you but recently, have I not?"
"Yes—but you can't guess when and where," he laughingly replied, at which the girl looked far out to sea and pondered.
"Of course I can, only it must have been a dream. Indeed, I saw you in a dream. You, and another man, whom I had never seen, stood before me. You said something about it being time for me to get up and prepare breakfast for father. And something about opening up the stand—now isn't that true?"
"Practically, those were my words. You had slept entirely too long, so I tried a little trick on you and it worked for an instant. Then you went back to sleep. It is dangerous to sleep too long. Who do you think was with me?"
"Another man. I haven't seen him since. It wasn't the doctor?"
"No, it was Mr. Villard," replied Updyke, watching the effect of his words. "I never saw a man so anxious in my life."
"Oh, isn't he the dearest soul! I just love him—he has been so kind to father and me, and he is going to run us over home this morning in his car. We are leaving to-day for good, and we may never see New York after all," she concluded, shaking her head sadly.
"You'll have a different driver next time than the one you started out with," suggested Updyke, dryly, as Winifred looked down at the sand and revolved a certain question that she had in mind. It concerned Parkins' whereabouts, but she did not ever want to speak his name again.