embarrassments are worse than crimes."

Mélanie could laugh at that, and did. "I've already answered a note
from Mr. Van Camp this morning; Auntie. No, don't worry," she
playfully answered a sudden anxious look that came upon her aunt's
countenance, "I've not said 'yes' to him. But he's coming to see me at
twelve. If I don't give him a chance to say what he has to say, he'll
take one anywhere. He's capable of proposing on the street-cars.
Besides, I have something also to say to him."

"Well, my dear, you know best; certainly I think you know best," was
Madame Reynier's last word.

Mr. Van Camp arrived on the stroke of twelve, an expression of
happiness on his lean, quizzical face.

"I'm supposed to be starting on a cruise," he told Mélanie, "but luck
is with me. My cousin hasn't turned up--or rather he turned up only to
disappear instantly. Otherwise he would have dragged me off to catch
the first ebb-tide, with me hanging back like an anchor-chain."

"Is your cousin, then, such a tyrant?"

"Oh, yes; he's a masterful man, is Jimmy."

"And how did he 'disappear instantly?' It sounds mysterious."

"It is mysterious, but Jim can take care of himself; at least, I hope
he can. The message said he had sailed on the _Jeanne D'Arc_, whatever
that is, and that I was to look after our hired yacht, the _Sea Gull_."