to his face as he took his bag. "That's mighty
good of you, Mr. Cosden," he said, with such apparent sincerity that it
disarmed his uncle's wrath. "There aren't many men who would help a
fellow out like that. I won't forget it!"

He ran down the stone steps and took his place in the stern of the
motor-boat. "Good-bye, everybody! Say, Uncle Monty, explain to Merry why
I didn't have time to say 'good-bye' to her, and don't forget that this
joy-ride is on Mr. Cosden. Good-bye!"

They watched the little boat speed after the tender, which by this time
had reached the narrows; then they turned back to the piazza.

"We've succeeded in making ourselves fairly conspicuous," Cosden
remarked. "A good deal of fuss over one small boy, eh, Monty?"

"Thank you so much!" Edith cried enthusiastically as they joined her. "I
haven't seen so much excitement since I arrived,--and I love to watch
two live men in action."

"It's frightful, being stared at, isn't it?" Cosden protested.

"Don't believe a word he says, Miss Stevens," Huntington retaliated. "He
really loves to be stared at; it's the disappointment on the people's
faces after looking at him that causes the worry.--Now, Connie, you can
put your foot on the ground without stepping on Billy. How are you
planning to take advantage of your opportunity?"

Cosden glanced at his watch. "I have an appointment with Thatcher at
eleven on that little business proposition. We're to meet at the
'Hamilton.' I've just about time to keep it. As for you, I suggest that
you invite Miss Stevens to show you the way to the Devil's Hole. They
have a wonderful collection of fish over there, which the Scotch keeper
puts through their paces every little while whenever he needs the money.
I commend your attention to the bachelor-fish: it has a bad disposition,
makes itself obnoxious to its fellow-creatures, and would be sarcastic
in its conversation if it had the power of speech."

With this parting shot Cosden made his excuses to Miss Stevens and
walked over to the "Hamilton." His spirits had improved immensely within
the past half-hour, and the proximity of his appointment caused him to
forget for the moment that his vacation trip thus far had distinctly
bored him. To Cosden a vacation consisted, as Henry James would have
described it, of "agitated scraps of rest, snatched by the liveliest
violence." On other occasions, when he sought relaxation, he had found
it in strenuous physical exercise; in