"There's nothing remarkable in that, is there?" he queried, lightly-
-"Bell-heather is quite common in this part of the world. I
shouldn't like to try and count up the number of tourists I've
lately seen wearing it!"

"Ah, but you don't know the interest attaching to this particular
specimen!" persisted Mr. Harland--"It was given to our little friend
by a wild Highland fellow, presumably a native of Mull, the very
morning after she had seen your yacht for the first time, and he
told her that on the previous night he had brought all of the same
kind he could gather to you! Surely you see the connection?"

Santoris shook his head.

"I'm afraid I don't!" he said, smilingly. "Did the 'wild Highland
fellow' name me?"

"No--I believe he called you 'the shentleman that owns the yacht.'"

"Oh well!" and Santoris laughed--"There are so many 'shentlemen'
that own yachts! He may have got mixed in his customers. In any
case, I am glad to have some little thing in common with your
friend--if only a bunch of heather!"

"HER bunch behaves very curiously,"--put in Catherine--"It never
fades."

Santoris made no comment. It seemed as if he had not heard, or did
not wish to hear. He changed the conversation, much to my comfort,
and for the rest of the time he stayed with us, rather avoided