passing and we drove a little way together. Is it—is it a mistake or anything?"
A crooked little smile twisted the girl's mouth though her lips seemed to tremble. "No," she said, "I guess that it isn't any mistake," and she turned toward the stairway.
"Please wait," he said contritely; "I've said something that has hurt you. Won't you tell me—"
But the girl only shook her head and disappeared down the stairway.
Two hours afterward Moto appeared at the side of Dick's typewriter with eyes as round as a Jap can compass. "Where your bed up top-side?"
"Down in the Manoa Valley," replied Dick casually, without looking up from his work.
"What come?" inquired the man apprehensively.
Dick got up obligingly and pointed at the ironwood tree at the corner of his lanai. "Do you see that tree?" he asked. "Well, I spent the latter part of the night roosting in the branches of that."
The Jap's mouth fell open. "How you get out?" he asked, awestruck.
"The young lady next door ladled me out with a steamer chair."
"She!" exclaimed the Jap incredulously. "You see that lady?"
"Yes, I saw her," said Dick indifferently.
"You talk with her?" asked the man, with unbe-
