Iris had long been wearing those portions of the doctor's uniform.

But when it came to the rest-- At last, one memorable morning, she crossed the Rubicon.

Jenks had climbed, as usual, to the Summit Rock.

He came back with the exciting news that he thought--he could not be certain, but there were indications inspiring hopefulness--that towards the west of the far-off island he could discern the smoke of a steamer.
Though he had eyes for a faint cloud of vapor at least fifty miles distant he saw nothing of a remarkable change effected nearer home.
Outwardly, Iris was attired in her wonted manner, but if her companion's mind were not wholly monopolized by the bluish haze detected on the horizon, he must have noticed the turned-up ends of a pair of trousers beneath the hem of her tattered skirt.
It did occur to him that Iris received his momentous announcement with an odd air of hauteur, and it was passing strange she did not offer to accompany him when, after bolting his breakfast, he returned to the observatory.
He came back in an hour, and the lines on his face were deeper than before.
"A false alarm," he said curtly in response to her questioning look.
And that was all, though she nerved herself to walk steadily past him on her way to the well.

This was disconcerting, even annoying to a positive young woman like Iris.