the coming night. The Honorable Percival's
cap was on Bobby's head, and his coat was about her shoulders. As to
himself, he seemed strangely indifferent to the tumbled state of his
wind-blown hair and the shocking informality of his shirt-sleeves.
It was quite evident that for the time being, at least, he had thrown
discretion to the winds, and was sailing away from his memories at the
rate of sixteen knots an hour.

That night at dinner the captain followed Mrs. Weston's advice and took
soundings. Nothing was lost upon him, from Bobby's late arrival in a
somewhat sophisticated white evening gown that she had hitherto scorned,
to the new and becoming way in which her hair was arranged. It did not
require a Nelson eye to discover a suppressed excitement under her high
spirits or to detect the side-play that was taking place between her and
the apparently stolid Englishman at her right.

Captain Boynton looked at Mrs. Weston and raised one eyebrow; she nodded
comprehendingly. Later in the evening, when he dropped into a
steamer-chair beside her, he asked if she had seen Bobby.

"Not since dinner. All the young people have been asking for her. Did
you look in the writing-room ?"

"I've looked everywhere except in the coal-bunkers," said the captain,
gruffly. "Talk to me about responsibility. I'd rather run a schooner up
the Hoogli than to steer that girl of mine."

"You've wakened to your duty rather late, haven't you!" asked Mrs.
Weston. "I suppose it's the Englishman who is making you anxious?"

The captain dropped his voice.

"Did you see the way she looked at him at dinner? By George! it was
enough to melt the leg off an iron pot!"

"It's been coming for a week," said Mrs. Weston, wisely. "If you really
oppose it, there is no time to be lost."

"Oppose it? Of course I oppose it. What's to be done?"

"The situation requires delicate handling. Would you like me to try and
help you out--share the responsibility of chaperoning her, I mean?"

"Permanently?" asked the captain, shooting a quizzical glance at her
from under his heavy brows.

"You wretch!" said Mrs. Weston, flushing. "Just to Hong-Kong, I mean."

That night about ten o'clock the captain, who happened to be crossing
the steerage deck, came quite unexpectedly upon Percival and Bobby
groping their way through the dark.

[Illustration: "Roberta!" he called sternly. "What are you doing out
here?"]

"Roberta," he called sternly, "What are you doing