he jump,
someone waves a red parasol, and out floats the veiled lady, with a
maid. I'd sent her an invite, just as I said I would, but I never
thought she'd have the front to take it up.

"We came near missin' you," says I, steppin' up to the gang plank.

But say, she was so busy shakin' hands and callin' the rest of 'em by
their front names, that she didn't see me at all. It was that way all
day long, while we was goin' up the Sound. She cornered almost everyone
else, and chinned to 'em real earnest about somethin' or other, but I
never seemed to get in range. Well, I was havin' too good a time to feel
cut up about it, but I couldn't help bein' curious.

It wa'n't until dinner time that I got a line on her. Say, she was a
converser. No matter what was opened up, she heard her cue. And knock!
Why, she had a tack hammer in each hand. They was cute, spiteful little
taps, that made you snicker first, and then you got ashamed of yourself
for doin' it.

"Ain't she got any friends besides what's here?" says I to Sadie, after
we'd got through and gone up front by ourselves to see the moon rise.

"I'm not so sure about even these," says Sadie.

"Then why didn't someone cut in with a come-back?" says I.

"It isn't exactly safe," says she.

"Oh!" says I. "She's that kind, is she? You'd think from her talk that
she knew only two sorts of women: them that had been divorced, and them
that ought to be."

"I'm afraid that's her specialty," says Sadie.

"Sort of a lady muck-raker, eh?" says I. "Well I hope all she says ain't
so. How about it?"

Well, that was the beginnin' of a heart to heart talk that lasted for a
good many miles. Somehow Sadie and I'd never had a real quiet chance
like that before, and it came out that we had a lot to say to each
other. I don't know how it was, but the rest of 'em seemed to let us
alone. Some was back under the awnin' and others was down stairs,
playin' whist. There was singin' too, but we couldn't make out just who
was doin' it, and didn't care a whole lot.

Anyway, it was the bulliest ride I ever had. The moon come up over Long
Island, as big as a bill board and as yellow as a chorus girl's hair;
the air was kind of soft and warm, like you gets it in the front room
of a Turkish bath place; and there wa'n't anything on either side
nearer'n the shore lights, way off in the dark. It wa'n't any time for
thinkin' hard of anyone, so we agrees that the lady muck-raker must have
been born wi