d narrative of the events of the past three months.

I had not, however, proceeded very far, when, with a courteous raising
of his hand, King Alcinoues suggested a pause.

"If you would not mind," he said, "I would like my daughter to hear this
too, for it is of the very stuff of romantic adventure in which she
delights. She is a brave girl, and, as I often tell her, would have made
a very spirited dare-devil boy, if she hadn't happened to be born a
girl."

This phrase seemed to flash a light upon the questionings that had
stirred at the back of my mind since I had first heard that voice in
Sweeney's store.

"By the way, dear King," I said, assuming a casual manner, "do you
happen to have a son?"

"No!" he answered, "Calypso is my only child."

"Very strange!" I said, "we met a whimsical lad in our travels whom I
would have sworn was her brother."

"That's odd!" said the "King" imperturbably, "but no! I have no son";
and he seemed to say it with a certain sadness.

Then Calypso came in to join my audience, having, meanwhile, taken the
opportunity of twining a scarlet hibiscus among her luxuriant dark
curls. I should certainly have told the story better without her, yet I
was glad--how glad!--to have her seated there, an attentive presence in
a simple gown, white as the seafoam--from which, there was no further
doubt in my mind, she had magically sprung.

I gave them the whole story, much as I had told it in John Saunders's
snuggery--John P. Tobias, Jr.; dear old Tom and his sucking fish, his
ghosts, sharks, skeletons, and all; and when I had finished, I found
that the interest of my story was once more chiefly centred in my
pock-marked friend of "The wonderful works of God."

"I should like to meet your pock-marked friend," said King Alcinoues,
"and I have a notion that, with you as a bait, I shall not long be
denied the pleasure."

"I am inclined to think that I have seen him already," said Calypso,
using her honey-golden voice for the base purpose of mentioning him.

"Impossible!" I cried, "he is long since safe in Nassau gaol."

"O! not lately," she answered to our interrogative surprise, and giving
a swift embarrassed look at her father, which I at once connected with
the secret of the doubloons.

"Seriously, Calypso?" asked her father, with a certain stern affection,
as thinking of her safety. "On one of your errands to town?"

And then, turning to me, he said:

"Sir Ulysses, you have spoken wel