heard Mr.
Boyle telling them to sweep it up, and they were hard at work when I
went to my cabin."

"Oh, is that where you hid yourself? No wonder I could not find you.
Of course, Joey knew where you were. How stupid of me!"

"Please don't call yourself names, Elsie. You don't deserve them.
And, by the way, may I address you by your Christian name? It slipped
out to-day unawares. Not that I feel like apologizing, because I
don't. There are times when the heart speaks, not the guarded tongue."

Luckily, the darkness covered the hot blush which leaped to her cheeks.
She gave a nervous little laugh, and strove desperately to parry this
wholly unexpected assault.

"I shall be delighted if you always call me Elsie. It sounds friendly,
and I think our circumstances warrant a true friendship."

"Excellent. I suppose you know that my name is Arthur?"

"Yes, but I had no notion of that sort of exchange. You are the
captain, and a very serious sort of captain at times. I feel like a
little girl when you look at me and tell me not to be naughty. So
'Elsie' sounds all right, but I simply dare not call you 'Arthur.'
Just imagine what a sensation it would create in the saloon. I should
feel creepy all over. And hadn't we better be--"

"Elsie," said he, with a tender note in his voice which thrilled her
like a chord of exquisite music, "I want to tell you something. The
knowledge is forced on me that there is another man on this ship who
wishes to make you his wife. But I, too, love you, and I see no reason
why I should stand aside for any man on God's earth until you tell me
with your own lips that you prefer him to me."

"Oh!" gasped Elsie, and "Oh!" again, but not another word could she
utter, she who had been so voluble a moment ago. The bitter-sweet pain
of hearing this sudden avowal was almost overpowering. Her ideals of
honor and truth were shocked; but she was a woman as well as an
idealist, and she was stirred to the depths of her soul by the
knowledge that she had won the man whose love she craved. Yet it must
not be: she could never again hold her head high if she yielded to him.
She must relinquish him, drive him away from her by an assumed coldness
which would wring her very heart-strings. If he came nearer, if he
took her in his arms, she would be unable to resist him. Her impulse
was to fly, to lock herself in her room. But she could not drop the
wounded dog on the deck, and Joey, satisfied