was in perfect shipshape; and an
artful little motor was hidden away for emergencies of wind and tide.
There was a lovely little cabin, all in white and gold, with pale blue
draperies; and two tiny staterooms dainty enough for the slumbers of a
fairy queen. There were books and games, and a victrola that sang
full-toned boating songs as they glided onward.

Even Dud was properly impressed by the charms of "The Polly"; and Jim was
outspoken in his admiration. Freddy was wide-eyed with delight; and Dan
was swept quite away from his usual moorings into another world,--a world
where Aunt Winnie's boy seemed altogether lost. For, with Miss Polly
slipping her little hand in his and guiding him over her namesake, and
Freddy telling Tad the story of Dan's dive among the sharks, to which even
the man at "The Polly's" wheel listened with interest, with dad so jolly
and friendly, and everything so gay and beautiful around him, it was no
wonder that Dan's head, accustomed to sober prosy ways, began to turn.

"Dolan,--Dolan? I ought to know that name," said dad, as, with Polly and
her "nice" boy at his side, he stood watching the roofs and spires of
Beach Cliff come into view. "There was a Phil Dolan in my class at
Harvard,--one of the finest fellows I ever knew; rolling in money, but it
didn't hurt him. He is a judge now, and I think he had a brother at West
Point. Are you related to them?"

"No, sir," answered Dan, who at another time would have blurted out that
he was not of the Harvard or West Point kind. "I--I am from Maryland."

"Oh, Maryland!" said dad, approvingly. "I see,--I see! The Dolans of
Maryland. I've heard of them,--one of the old Catholic families, I
think."

"Yes, we're--we're Catholics all right," said Dan, catching to this saving
spar of truth, in his doubt and uncertainty. "We--we wouldn't be anything
else if we were killed for it."

"Of course you wouldn't. That is your heritage, my boy! Hold fast to it,"
said dad, heartily. Then he turned about to see that "The Polly" made the
way safely to her private wharf, feeling that he left his little girl with
the scion of a family quite equal to the Foresters.

With the strange sense of treading in an unreal world, Dan passed on with
the rest of the chattering, laughing crowd to the pretty, rustic wharf
jutting out into the waters, and up to the steep, narrow street where
carriages were waiting to take them to the Forester home. The wide grounds
and gardens we