illiant one."

"I doubt if Miss Van Buren would consent," said I.

"She has, already."

"By Jove! What excuse did you make for asking her?"

"I didn't ask her. What I did was to put the notion into darling
Auntie's head. I knew after that, the thing was as good as done. I
remarked in my vaguest way that it was a wonder some catastrophe hadn't
happened to Tibe or other less important members of the party, on board
a boat named 'Lorelei.' I didn't exactly _say_ it was an unlucky name,
but somehow or other she seemed to think so at the end of our
conversation. Then she had a conversation with Miss Van Buren; and the
consequence is that the sooner 'Lorelei's' name is changed to 'Mascotte'
the better the owner will be pleased; and no questions asked."

"By Jove!" said I, again. There's something uncanny about the Mariner's
adopted relative. I would give a good deal to know what she's planning
to do for me; for if she has decided that my name had better be painted
on or off any heart of her acquaintance, I have little doubt it will be.

Once out of the sluice, we were immediately in the Zuider Zee, whose
yellow waves rocked "Lorelei" as if she were a cradle, causing the barge
to wallow heavily in our wake. Should the weather be rough at any time
when we have seaports to visit, "Lorelei" and her consort will have to
lie in harbor, and the party must be satisfied to do the journey on a
commonplace passenger-boat. But on such a day as this there was no
danger, no excuse for seasickness, although I half expected the ladies
to ask if we were safe. Apparently, however, the doubt did not enter
their heads. So far we have had neither accident nor stoppage of any
kind, and they have ceased to think it possible that anything can happen
to the motor.

Marken, with its tall-spired church, soon appeared to our eyes, the
closely grouped little island-town seeming to float on the waves as San
Giorgio Maggiore does at Venice, in the sunset hour.

In spite of my sneers at the island theater and its performers,
eagerness betrayed itself in the manner of my passengers, as we
approached Marken, full petrol ahead.

"They see us," I announced, as we drew near enough to make out that a
crowd of huge green and yellow mounds massed in the harbor were
hay-boats. "They're congratulating themselves on an unexpected harvest,
as the big audiences for which they cater every morning and afternoon in
summer are gone for the day. When we arrive, the