o drop
jests, it is blowing very hard off land; the sea is getting up, and this
is but a small boat. We are doing pretty well now, but sooner or later,
I fear, and I think it right to tell you, that a wave may poop us and
then----"

"There will be an end," said Stella. "Is there anything to be done? Have
you any plan?"

"None, except to make the Far Lightship, as I told you; but even if we
succeed, I don't know whether it will be possible to get aboard of her
unless the sea moderates."

"Won't the lifeboat come out to look for you?" she asked.

He shook his head. "How could they find one tiny sail upon the great
ocean? Moreover, it will be supposed either that I have foundered or
made some port along the coast. There is the worst of it. I fear that it
may be telegraphed everywhere," and he sighed deeply.

"Why?" she asked. "Are you a very important person that they should
bother to do that? You see," she added in explanation, "I don't even
know your name or where you come from, only that you told me you worked
in a shop which," she added reflectively, looking at him, "seems odd."

Even then and there Morris could not help a smile; really this young
lady was very original.

"No," he answered, "I am not at all important, and I work in a shop
because I am an inventor--or try to be--in the electrical line. My name
is Morris Monk, and I am the son of Colonel Monk, and live at the Abbey
House, Monksland. Now you know all about me."

"Oh! of course I do, Mr. Monk," she said in some confusion, "how foolish
of me not to guess. You are my father's principal new parishioner, of
whom Mr. Tomley gave us a full description."

"Did he indeed? What did he say?" he asked idly.

"Do you really want to know, Mr. Monk?"

"Yes, if it is amusing. Just now I shall be grateful for anything that
can divert my thoughts."

"And you will promise not to bear malice against Mr. Tomley?"

"Certainly, especially as he has gone away, and I don't expect to see
him any more."

"Well, he described your father, Colonel Monk, as a handsome and
distinguished elderly gentleman of very good birth, and manners, too,
when he chose, who intensely disliked growing old. He said that he
thought of himself more than of anybody else in the world, and next of
the welfare of his family, and that if we wished to get on with him
we must be careful not to offend his dignity, as then he would be
quarrelsome."

"That's true enough, or most of it," answere