trying to make out the faces of friends. Presently they were allowed
to come on board, and I, eagerly watching, spied Boggley bounding up
the ladder, and the next moment we were clutching each other wildly.
But our greeting--what it is to be Scots!--was merely "Hallo! there
you are!" I need not have worried about what I would say when I met
him--yes, I was silly enough to do that--for he is just the same dear
old Boggley, hair as red, eyes as blue and as short-sighted, mouth as
wide as ever. I think his legs are even longer. The first thing he did
when he came on board was to fall over someone's dressing-bag, and
that made us both laugh helplessly like silly children. I introduced
him to G. and the others, and by this time G. had found her sister,
and soon they were all talking together, so G. and I slipped away to
look out for people in whom we were interested. Very specially did we
want, to see Mr. Albert Murray, and when we did see him he was almost
exactly what we had expected--small, sandy-haired, his topi making
his head look out of all proportion, and with a trodden-on look. We
noticed the little man wandering aimlessly about, when a voice from
the music-room door saying "Albert" made him start visibly, and
turning, he sidled up to our cabin companion, who kissed him severely,
while he murmured, "Well, m' dear, how are you?" Seeing us standing
near she said, "Well, good-bye, girls. I hope you'll have a good time
and behave yourselves;" and then, turning to her husband, by way of an
introduction, she added, "These are the girls who shared my cabin."
Mr. Albert shuffled his topi and looked at us with kind, blinking
eyes, but attempted no remark. The last we saw of him he was tugging
the hat-box in the wake of his managing wife. G. looked at me
solemnly. "We had little to complain of," she said; "we weren't
married to her."

The husband of the Candle was the greatest surprise. I had