put out of the
way, if my presence or my assistance was needed.

"No, you didn't. That was nothing. Miss Collingsby was singing on the
high notes."

I glanced at her. She did not look cheerful enough to sing, but angry
enough to touch the high notes, though not the melodious ones.

"I will go down and see you cook, Phil," said she, with a struggle to
appear composed, though it was not a success.

I descended to the cabin, and turned to assist her down the steps.

"Stop a few moments, Miss Collingsby, if you please," interposed Mr.
Waterford. "I wish to speak to you."

"I will come up again," she replied, leaping lightly upon the cabin
floor.

"I am afraid you will find the cook-room rather hot for you," I added,
as I led the way forward.

I opened the door into the kitchen, and gave her a seat within the
cabin, where she could observe all that was done. I fancied, however,
that she did not care much just then how beefsteak and sliced potatoes
were cooked on board of a yacht, and that she only desired to escape
from the presence of the gallant skipper.

I put the beefsteak upon the stove. I had set the table after preparing
the potatoes, and I had nothing to do but watch the meat.

"That is a real nice little place, Phil," said Miss Collingsby; and her
tones indicated that she had not yet recovered her self-possession.

"It is rather small, though it is as roomy as any yacht of this size
can have."

"I think it is quite cool, with that scuttle open."

"I don't mind the heat; but I am used to it."

"Do you think we shall overtake Mr. Whippleton, Phil?" asked she, after
a pause, during which I turned the steak.

"I don't think we have gained on her any yet," I replied.

"I don't believe he means to catch her," added my fair companion, with
a very anxious expression.

"We are certainly following the Florina, though we are at least three
miles from her. I don't think we shall overhaul her till she comes
about, or makes a harbor."

There was another pause: and when I saw how anxious Miss Collingsby
was, I could not help feeling a strong sympathy with her. The scream
had not yet been explained to me; but I concluded that the gallant
skipper had alarmed her by being too demonstrative in his attentions.

"Do you know where we are going?" she inquired.

"I do not; only that we are to join Mr. Whippleton."

"I wish I was on shore again," said she, with a sigh.

"Why?" I asked, in the simplicity of my he