you know him very well?' she asked.

'Mr. Porterfield?'

'No, Mr. Nettlepoint.'

'Ah, very little. He's a good deal younger than I.'

She was silent a moment; after which she said: 'He's younger than me,
too.' I know not what drollery there was in this but it was unexpected
and it made me laugh. Neither do I know whether Miss Mavis took offence
at my laughter, though I remember thinking at the moment with
compunction that it had brought a certain colour to her cheek. At all
events she got up, gathering her shawl and her books into her arm. 'I'm
going down--I'm tired.'

'Tired of me, I'm afraid.'

'No, not yet.'

'I'm like you,' I pursued. 'I should like it to go on and on.'

She had begun to walk along the deck to the companion-way and I went
with her. 'Oh, no, I shouldn't, after all!'

I had taken her shawl from her to carry it, but at the top of the steps
that led down to the cabins I had to give it back. 'Your mother would be
glad if she could know,' I observed as we parted.

'If she could know?'

'How well you are getting on. And that good Mrs. Allen.'

'Oh, mother, mother! She made me come, she pushed me off.' And almost as
if not to say more she went quickly below.

I paid Mrs. Nettlepoint a morning visit after luncheon and another in
the evening, before she 'turned in.' That same day, in the evening, she
said to me suddenly, 'Do you know what I have done? I have asked
Jasper.'

'Asked him what?'

'Why, if _she_ asked him, you know.'

'I don't understand.'

'You do perfectly. If that girl really asked him--on the balcony--to
sail with us.'

'My dear friend, do you suppose that if she did he would tell you?'

'That's just what he says. But he says she didn't.'

'And do you consider the statement valuable?' I asked, laughing out.
'You had better ask Miss Gracie herself.'

Mrs. Nettlepoint stared. 'I couldn't do that.'

'Incomparable friend, I am only joking. What does it signify now?'

'I thought you thought everything signified. You were so full of
signification!'

'Yes, but we are farther out now, and somehow in mid-ocean everything
becomes absolute.'

'What else _can_ he do with decency?' Mrs. Nettlepoint went on. 'If, as
my son, he were never to speak to her it would be very rude and you
would think that stranger still. Then _you_ would do what he does, and
where would be the difference?'

'How do you know what he does? I haven't mentioned him for twenty-four
hours.'

'Why,