murderous desire to throw the pink sun-bonnet and its owner into
the sea, when Natalie whispered audibly to one of her cousins
that "Mees Annette act nice wit' her lovare."

The sun was banking up flaming pillars of rose and gold in the
west when the little "Virginie" rounded Cat Island on her way
home, and the quick Southern twilight was fast dying into
darkness when she was tied up to the pier and the merry-makers
sprang off with baskets of fish. Annette had distinguished
herself by catching one small shark, and had immediately ceased
to fish and devoted her attention to her fisherman and his line.
Philip had angled fiercely, landing trout, croakers, sheepshead,
snappers in bewildering luck. He had broken each hopeless
captive's neck savagely, as though they were personal enemies.
He did not look happy as they landed, though paeans of praise
were being sung in his honour.

As the days passed on, "the fisherman of the Pass" began to dance
attendance on Annette. What had seemed a joke became serious.
Aunt Nina, urged by Philip, remonstrated, and even the mamma of
the pink sunbonnet began to look grave. It was all very well for
a city demoiselle to talk with a fisherman and accept favours at
his hands, provided that the city demoiselle understood that a
vast and bridgeless gulf stretched between her and the fisherman.

But when the demoiselle forgot the gulf and the fisherman refused
to recognise it, why, it was time to take matters in hand.

To all of Aunt Nina's remonstrances, Philip's growlings, and the
averted glances of her companions, Annette was deaf. "You are