, when we took our walks, but when we
did meet again, it came as a surprise, and quite took me off my feet.

A month had passed since Mary Ellen's party. It was a windy, sunny day in
March, and great white clouds billowed in a clear sky--like clean clothes
in a tub of blueing, Mary Ellen had said. I was sitting alone on the steps
of the Cathedral. Angel was in the schoolroom writing his weekly letter to
father, and The Seraph was suffering a bath at the hands of Mary Ellen,
following an excursion into the remoter depths of the coal cellar.

So I sat on the Cathedral steps alone. It was a fine morning for flights of
the imagination. The soft thunder of the Cathedral organ became at my will
the booming of the surf on a distant coral reef. The pigeons wheeling
overhead became gulls, whimpering in the cordage. Little did the ancient
caretaker reck, as he swept the stretch of flagging before the carved door,
that he was washing off the deck of a frigate, whilst I, the rover of the
seas, kept a stern eye on him. Louder boomed the surf--then soft again. The
door behind me had opened and closed. The deck-washer touched his cap. Then
the Bishop stood above me, smiling, the sun glinting in his blue eyes and
on the buttons of his gaiters.

"Hal-_lo_, John," he said. "What's the game this morning. Seafaring as
usual?"

I nodded, "She's as saucy a frigate," I answered happily, "as ever sailed
the seas, and this here wild weather is just a frolic for her. But I don't
like the look of yon black craft to the windward." And I pointed to a
dustman's cart that had just hove into view.

"I entirely agree with you," replied the Bishop. "She looks as though she
were out on dirty business. I'd like nothing better than to stay and see
you make short work of her, but here it is Friday morning, and not a
blessed word of my sermon written, so I must be getting on." And with that
he strode down the street to his own house. I was alone again watching the
approaching vessel with suspicion. Then, above the thrashing of the spray,
I heard my name spoken by a voice I knew, and turning looked straight up
into Harry's face.

"John!" he repeated. "What luck. I have been watching for you for days, you
little hermit!"

"Watching for me, Harry?"

"Yes," he proceeded, "and the one time I saw you, that starched governess
of yours had you gripped by the hand--"

--"just like any old baby girl," I broke in.

Harry laughed and shook my hand enthusiasti