advertise a particular sort of bread. You know--'A book of
verses underneath the bough, a loaf of Wiggin's home-made bread,
and thou."'

In spite of myself, in spite of the absurd verse, of the pouring
rain, of the fact that I was shortly to place her dinner before her
in the capacity of upper servant, I thrilled to the last two words.

"'And thou,'" I repeated.

She looked up at me, startled, and for a second our glances held.
The next moment she was gone, and I was alone on a rain swept deck,
cursing my folly.

That night, in a white linen coat, I served dinner in the after
house. The meal was unusually gay, rendered so by the pitching of
the boat and the uncertainty of the dishes. In the general hilarity,
my awkwardness went unnoticed. Miss Lee, sitting beside Vail,
devoted herself to him. Mrs. Johns, young and blonde, tried to
interest Turner, and, failing in that, took to watching me, to my
discomfiture. Mrs. Turner, with apprehensive eyes on her husband,
ate little and drank nothing.

Dinner over in the main cabin, they lounged into the chart-room--
except Mrs. Johns, who, following them to the door, closed it behind
them and came back. She held a lighted cigarette, and she stood
just outside the zone of candlelight, watching me through narrowed
eyes.

"You got along very well to-night," she observed. "Are you quite