"Open the door," he commanded, "and let me see what you have brought with you." Tommy obeyed gingerly, and then Pym gaped, for what the open door revealed to him was a tiny roped box with a girl of twelve sitting on it.

She was dressed in some dull-coloured wincey, and looked cold and patient and lonely, and as she saw the big man staring at her she struggled in alarm to her feet, and could scarce stand on them.

Tommy was looking apprehensively from her to Pym.
"Good God, boy!" roared Pym, "are you married ?" "No," cried Tommy, in agony, "she's my sister, and we're orphans, and did you think I could have the heart to leave Elspeth behind ?" He took her stoutly by the hand.
"And he never will marry," said little Elspeth, almost fiercely; "will you, Tommy ?" "Never!" said Tommy, patting her and glaring at Pym.
But Pym would not have it.

"Married!" he shouted.

"Magnificent!" And he dipped exultantly, for he had got his idea at last.