The waves rolled in slowly and majestically one after the other, and broke at his feet in long wreaths of creamy foam,--and presently one or two light gusts of a rather chill wind warned him that he had best be returning homeward.
While he yet hesitated, a leaf of paper blew towards him, and danced about like a large erratic butterfly, finally dropping just where the stick on which he leaned made a hole in the sand.

He stooped and picked it up.

It was covered with fine small handwriting, and before he could make any attempt to read it, a man sprang up from behind one of the rocky boulders close by, and hurried forward, raising his cap as he came.
"That's mine!" he said, quickly, with a pleasant smile--"It's a loose page from my notebook.

Thank-you so much for saving it!" Helmsley gave him the paper at once, with a courteous inclination of the head.
"I've been scribbling down here all day,"-- proceeded the new comer--"And there's not been much wind till now.

But"-- and he glanced up and about him critically; "I think we shall have a puff of sou'wester to-night." Helmsley looked at him with interest.