That plan was followed diplomatically when she secured a private interview with her father, after the return on board the yacht.
"Daddy, dear," she said, with a manner as casual as she could contrive, "let's keep this Mister Higgins on board. He's bound for New York, but in no particular hurry. We'll get him there in about ten days."
Mr. Blaise, who was a plethoric, fussy little man, adamant to all the world save his only child, regarded her now in perplexity, his shrewd eyes a bit mischievous.
"I don't imagine it's to be the stereotyped romance, just because you dragged him out of the sea," he said. "The chap has the makings of considerable of a man in him, and he's good-looking enough to catch a girl's fancy; but he's not your sort. So, why?"
"Besides," Josephine retorted, smiling, "Florence has the same right in him as treasure trove. That would make the romance too complicated."
"Why?" Mr. Blaise repeated.
"I've never met anyone like him," the girl explained, with truth, if not all the truth. "He's unique. I want to study him. Such knowledge is broadening--better than books."
"Bosh!" was the comment. "You mean, he's just a freak to you, and you'd like to look him over a little longer. There's no harm in that, if it amuses you. But don't be silly about broadening yourself." He regarded his daughter critically. "And leave out the deserts. They're too broadening, if you like. You're getting plump."
Josephine accepted this meekly, in her satisfaction over having her way as to the new guest.
"I'll go and invite him, right away," she exclaimed. "He'll liven us up."
But her father wrinkled his brows in doubt.
"What about the effect on the young fellow, himself?" he demanded. "It can't do him any good, Josie. That sort of thing's unsettling, you know."
Josephine attempted no reply, as she went on her way. Her father could not see the flush that touched her cheeks.
Through such devious ways did it come to pass that the mountaineer entered a world of which he had never even dreamed. His own complete ignorance of social conditions prevented him from appreciating the marvel wrought by fate in his behalf. In the simplicity of his character, he accepted the change as a perfectly natural event in the world that he had set out to explore. It was this simplicity, which kept him from undue self-consciousness, that carried him safely through what must otherwise have been an ordeal. He accepted what had befallen thankfully, and sought to learn what he best might from the novel environment. His interest was conspicuously in others, not in himself. He was greedy of information, lavish in liking. By a benign miracle, there were no snobs in the yachting party, which included also two young men, and two of the owner's age, besides Josephine's aunt. This chaperon was a motherly soul, and, in sheer kindliness of heart did much to make the situation easy. The informality of the party, too, was a tremendous advantage to the young man, though he never guessed it. On the contrary, he accepted things as they were enthusiastically, with never a thought of dismay. In flannels loaned him by the largest guest, which fitted too snugly, he presented an appearance so excellent that Mr. Blaise was moved to pinch his daughter's ear, while reminding her of the stereotyped romance.