sy, Dom," said Otto, helping himself to a fifth, if not a
tenth, muffin. "Prosiness is one of your weak points when left to your
own promptings."

"But before you begin, Dom," said old Mr Rigonda, "tell us where Refuge
Islands are."

"In the Southern Pacific, father."

"Yes," observed Otto; "at the bottom of the Southern Pacific."

"Indeed!" exclaimed the old gentleman, whose incredulity was fast taking
the form of sarcasm. "Not far, I suppose, from that celebrated island
which was the last home and refuge of our famous ancestor, the Spanish
pirate, who was distantly related, through a first cousin of his mother,
to Don Quixote."

"You doubt us, daddy, I see," said Pauline, laughing; "but I do assure
you we are telling you the simple truth. I appeal to Dr Marsh."

Dr Marsh, who had chiefly acted the part of observant listener up to
that moment, now assured Mr Rigonda with so much sincerity that what
had been told him was true, that he felt bound to believe him.

"Yes, indeed," said Dr Marsh, "your daughter was in truth a queen, and
I was one of her subjects. Indeed, I may say that, in one sense, she is
a queen still, but she has been dethroned by fire and water, as you
shall presently hear, though she still reigns in the affections of her
people, and can _never_ be dethroned again!"

This speech was greeted with some merriment, for the doctor said it with
much enthusiasm. Then Dominick began to give an account of their
adventures, interrupted and corrected, not infrequently, by his pert
brother Otto, who, being still afflicted with his South-Sea-island
appetite, remained unsatisfied until the last slice of toast, and the
last muffin, and the last wedge of cake had disappeared from the table.

Dominick's intentions were undoubtedly good; and when he asserted that
it was his purpose to give his father and mother merely an outline of
their adventures, he was unquestionably sincere; but the outline became
so extended, and assumed such a variety of complex convolutions, that
there seemed to be no end to the story--as there certainly seemed to be
no end to the patience of the listeners. So Dominick went, "on and on
and on," as story-books put it, until the fire in the grate began to
burn low; until Otto had consumed the contents of the teapot, and the
cream-jug, and the sugar-basin, and had even gathered up, economically,
the crumbs of the cake; until the still eager audience had begun to yawn
considerately wi