know, and--well, I expect it's about the only way I'm like her. Mine
is apt to be that way too."

"Why, of course," comes in Mabel. "If she was as pretty as all that,
and angelic too----"

"You got the idea," says I. "She'd be in a stained glass window
somewhere, eh?"

"You're a silly boy!" says Vee.

"That sounds natural," says I. "I often get that from her."

"And is she living up here?" asks Mabel. "Visiting," says I. "She's
with her----"

"William," breaks in Vee, "I think Mr. Hollister wants you."

I'd most forgot about Payne; for, while he's only a few feet off, he's
as much out of the group as if he was ashore. You know how it is in
one of them high-powered launches with the engine runnin'. You can't
hear a word unless you're right close to. And Payne's twistin' around
restless.

"Yes, Sir?" says I, goin' up and reportin'.

"Ask Miss Verona if she doesn't want to come up here," says he. "I--I
think it will trim the boat better."

"Sure," says I. But when I passes the word to Vee I translates. "Mr.