Nothing further was said as they began to thread their way between a
few large ships and an ocean steamer at anchor, from whose decks a few
Sunday-clothed mariners gazed down admiringly on the smart gig and the
pretty girl in a Tam o' Shanter in its stern sheets. But here a new
idea struck the consul. A cable's length ahead lay a yacht, owned by an
American friend, and at her stern a steam launch swung to its painter.
Without intimating his intention to his passengers he steered for it.
"Bow!--way enough," he called out as the boat glided under the yacht's
counter, and, grasping the companion-ladder ropes, he leaped aboard. In
a few hurried words he explained the situation to Mr. Robert Gray, her
owner, and suggested that he should send the belated passengers to St.
Kentigern by the launch. Gray assented with the easy good-nature of
youth, wealth, and indolence, and lounged from his cabin to the side.
The consul followed. Looking down upon the boat he could not help
observing that his fair young passenger, sitting in her demure stillness
at her father's side, made a very pretty picture. It was possible that
"Bob Gray" had made the same observation, for he presently swung himself
over the gangway into the gig, hat in hand. The launch could easily take
them; in fact, he added unblushingly, it was even then getting up steam
to go to St. Kentigern. Would they kindly come on board until it was
ready? At an added word or two of explanation from the consul, the
father accepted, preserving the same formal pride and stiffness, and the
transfer was made. The consul, looking back as his gig swept round again
towards Bannock pier, received their parting salutations, and the first
smile he had seen on the face of his grave little passenger. He thought
it very sweet and sad.

He did not return to the Consulate at St. Kentigern until the next day.
But he was somewhat surprised to find Mr. Robert Gray awaiting him, and
upon some business which the young millionaire could have easily deputed