green boat made a beautiful picture.
She would have made this in any case, for her pose was so good, and her
figure fine, but when, in addition, there was a sweet intelligent face
without one scrap of self-consciousness about it, and two gray eyes full
of a tender and sympathetic light, and when the rosy lips only opened to
make the pleasantest and most appropriate speeches, and only to give
utterance to words of tact and kindness, Mrs. Bell was not very far
wrong when she felt a sense of uneasiness for her own poor chick.

Shuffle, however, as she would up in the stern, viciously pull the
rudder string so as to incline the boat away from Beatrice, the
captain's will still kept the green boat and the white together. Was he
likely to give in or to succumb to a woman like Mrs. Bell? Had he not
planned this meeting in his own mind from an early hour that morning?
For had he not met Beatrice and incidentally gathered that she would be
sure to be on the water that night? And after receiving this
information, had he not carefully made his plans, wandering about on the
quay just when the Bells were getting into their boat, accepting the
invitation eagerly given that he should go on the water with them, and
afterwards come home to supper.

"Sophy," Mrs. Bell had gasped, at that critical and triumphant moment in
a whisper, pulling her youngest daughter aside, "fly up to Gibb's at the
corner, and order in two lobsters for supper. The captain loves lobsters
with the coral in them. Be sure you see that they have the coral in
them, Sophy. Fly, child. We'll wait for you here."

And Captain Bertram had overheard this whisper, and mentally determined
that Beatrice Meadowsweet should also eat lobster with coral in it for
supper. Was it likely, therefore, that he would now yield to that
impatient tug of Mrs. Bell's rudder? On the contrary, he put out his
hand in apparently the most unconscious way, and held the little green
boat to the side of the white. In his way he was a diplomat, and even
Matty did not suspect that he wanted to do anything but show her a
kindness by keeping her in such close conversation with her friend.

"It's getting quite chill," suddenly exclaimed Mrs. Bell. "Girls, it's
time for us to be getting home. Your father likes his supper punctually.
Well, Bee, my dear, there's no use in asking you to supper, I suppose?
Of course, more than welcome you'd be if you would come, lovey, but
you're such a daughter--one in