a boat. Suppose you call her the Rose. Papa--my father, I mean--used to
call me that oftener than Rosamond, and--one or two other people do
yet."

"I don't think Rosamond would be too long," he said thoughtfully, "but
it shall be as you wish, of course. I will have 'Rose' painted on the
stern, and I can call her Rosamond to myself. May I have one of your
roses, just to--to remember it by, till I can see the painter?"

"Why, yes, I suppose so." And she unfastened one of the two at her
throat, and handed it to him.

He placed it carefully in his pocket-book, which, as she observed with
some surprise, was of the finest Russia leather. Ferrying must be
profitable work, to provide the ferryman with such boats and
pocket-books.

There was a brief silence, and then she said, "You were singing as I
came down the bank. Would you mind singing again? It sounds so pretty on
the water."

He made no answer in words, but presently his voice arose, softly at
first, and then with passionate fervor, and this time his song was,
"Oh, wert thou in the cauld blast!"

"Thank you; that was beautiful," said Rosamond calmly, as he finished
and the boat grazed the bank at one and the same moment. "What a good
voice you have! And you must have taken lessons, to sing so correctly:
haven't you?"