hild.

"I wonder, now," Vere said, presently, "why I never specially wished to
be a boy until to-day--because, after all, it can't be from you that the
wish came. If it had been it must have come long ago. And it didn't. It
only came when I heard that boy's voice. He sings like all the boys,
you know, that have ever enjoyed themselves, that are still enjoying
themselves in the sun."

"I wish he would sing once more!" said Hermione.

"Perhaps he will. Look! He's getting into the boat. And the men are
stopping too."

The boy was very quick in his movements. Almost before Vere had finished
speaking he had pulled on his blue jersey and white trousers, and again
taken the big oars in his hands. Standing up, with his face set towards
the islet, he began once more to propel the boat towards it. And as he
swung his body slowly to and fro he opened his lips and sang lustily
once more,

"O Napoli, bella Napoli!"

Hermione and Vere sat silently listening as the song grew louder and
louder, till the boat was almost in the shadow of the islet, and the
boy, with a strong stroke of the left oar turned its prow towards the
pool over which San Francesco watched.

"They're going into the Saint's Pool to have a siesta," said Vere.
"Isn't he a splendid boy, Madre?"

As she spoke the boat was passing almost directly beneath them, and they
saw its name painted in red letters on the prow, _Sirena del Mare_. The
two men, one young, one middle-aged, were staring before them at the
rocks. But the boy, more sensitive, perhaps, than they were to the
watching eyes of women, looked straight up to Vere and to her mother.
They saw his level rows of white teeth gleaming as the song came out
from his parted lips, the shining of his eager dark eyes, full of the
careless merriment of youth, the black, low-growing hair stirring in
the light sea breeze about his brow, bronzed by sun and wind. His
slight figure swayed with an easy motion that had the grace of perfectly
controlled activity, and his brown hands gripped the great oars with
a firmness almost of steel, as the boat glided under the lee of the
island, and vanished from the eyes of the watchers into the shadowy pool
of San Francesco.

When the boat had disappeared, Vere lifted herself up and turned round
to her mother.

"Isn't he a jolly boy, Madre?"

"Yes," said Hermione.

She spoke in a low voice. Her eyes were still on the sea where the boat
had passed.

"Yes," she repeated,