ge room could be covered by awnings and became a charming
promenade deck.

Even Aunt Betty became speechless with pleasure as she wandered over
the beautiful boat, examining every detail, from the steam-heating
arrangements to the tiny "kitchen," which was upon the "tender"
behind.

"I thought the tug, or towing boat was always in front," she remarked
at length.

"Mr. Blank found this the best arrangement. The 'Pad' has a steam
engine and its prow fastened to the stern of the Lily propels it
ahead. None of the smoke comes into the Lily and that, too, was why
the galley, or kitchen, was built on the smaller boat. A little bridge
is slung between the two for foot passage and--Well, Madam, I can't
stop admiring the whole affair. It shows what a man's brain can do
in the way of invention, when his heart is in it, too. I fancy that
parting with his Water Lily was about the hardest trial poor old Blank
had to bear."

Silence fell on them all and Dorothy's face grew very sober. It was a
wonderful thing that this great gift should come to her but it grieved
her to know it had so come by means of another's misfortune. Aunt
Betty, too, grew more serious and she asked the practical question:

"Is it a very expensive thing to run? Say for about three months?"

The official shrugged his shoulders, replying:

"That depends on what one considers expensive. It would smash my
pocket-book to flinders. The greatest cost would be the engineer's
salary. One might take the job for three dollars a day and keep.
He might--I don't know. Then the coal, the power for the electric
lights--the lots of little things that crop up to eat up cash as if it
were good bread and butter. Ah! yes. It's a lovely toy--for those who
can afford it. I only wish I could!"

The man's remarks ended in a sigh and he looked at Dorothy as if he
envied her. His expression hurt her, somehow, and she turned away her
eyes, asking a practical question of her own:

"Would three hundred dollars do it?"

"Yes--for a time, at least. But----"

He broke off abruptly and helped Aunt Betty to ascend the plank to
the wharf, while Dorothy followed, soberly, and Ephraim with all
the pomposity he could assume.

There Methuselah Bonaparte Washington, the small colored boy who had
always lived at Bellvieu and now served as Mrs. Betty's page as well
as footman, descended from his perch and untied the horses from the
place where careful Ephraim had fastened them. His air wa