smiled, were very even and white. Rachel thought he must be quite old, because there was a good deal of gray mixed with his fair hair.
“Are you watching for the mermaids?” he said.
Rachel nodded gravely. From any one else she would have scrupulously hidden such a thought.
“Yes, I am,” she said. “Mother says there is no such thing as a mermaid, but I like to think there is. Have you ever seen one?”
The big man sat down on a bleached log of driftwood and smiled at her.
“No, I’m sorry to say that I haven’t. But I have seen many other very wonderful things. I might tell you about some of them, if you would come over here and sit by me.”
Rachel went unhesitatingly. When she reached him he pulled her down on his knee, and she liked it.
“What a nice little craft you are,” he said. “Do you suppose, now, that you could give me a kiss?”
As a rule Rachel hated kissing. She could seldom be prevailed upon to kiss even her uncles — who knew it and liked to tease her for kisses until they aggravated her so terribly that she told them she couldn’t bear men. But now she promptly put her arms about this strange man’s neck and gave him a hearty smack.
“I like you,” she said frankly.
She felt his arms tighten suddenly about her.
