e derelict toward land. He had lighted the red
starboard lamp--the port lamp was missing--and hung a lantern at the
head of the foremast. Virginia sat beside him.

For an hour Dan had been absorbed in the business of manoeuvring his
sodden charge. Waterlogged as she was it was no easy matter to swing
her out of the current and head her upon a course. But at last he had
succeeded. Having but one sail it could not have been better placed
than amidships. Placed in the mainmast it was easier to maintain
steerage way and at the same time it served to push the derelict
forward. Turning to the girl, he laughed triumphantly; and she, who
had begun to be almost jealous of the derelict, inasmuch as it had
taken so much of his attention, smiled politely, if faintly.

"And now," said Dan, sitting beside her, with his hands on the lower
spokes of the battered wheel, "we are homeward bound. The stars have
told me a great deal. See them all. Over there are Regulus and his
sickle, and in the northwest you see Queen Vega. There is Ursa Major
up there, nearly overhead. There's the Little Bear north of it; and
still north is the good old North Star. We are going straight for
land, Miss Howland."

"You are awfully clever, Captain Merrithew."

Dan looked at her quickly. She was smiling mockingly.

"Yes," she continued, as though communing with herself, "I really
believe he would rather talk about his old stars than bother coming
down to the level of a girl who is dying to bring him to earth. I
cannot imagine a more disagreeable man to be shipwrecked with."

"Nor I a more agreeable--" He checked himself. "I am entirely at your
service, Miss Howland," he added; "which is to say, I have alighted."

She did not answer at once. Instead she leaned forward with her hands
supporting her chin, her elbows in her lap, gazing solemnly at the
western stars.

"It is nearly eight o'clock, isn't it?" she asked, without moving her
head.

"Yes," replied Dan, "about that. Why?"

"Just now in New York," said Virginia in her low, full tones, "they
have finished dining on Broadway. All the lights are, oh, so bright!
and women in the most gorgeous spring gowns and men in evening dress
are pouring out of the Astor, the Waldorf, the Knickerbocker,--every
place,--and stepping into red and green taxi-cabs, or strolling
leisurely to see the latest play. And on Fifth Avenue, in the club
opposite our house, the same five stout men are ju