re'll be a
stage-setting and a stage-grouping, which would make a 'hit' for a first
act in London."

Still nearer we came, and now we could see men and women and little
children playing at unloading the hay with pitchforks from boats large
and small. It was the prettiest sight imaginable, and one felt that
there ought to be an accompaniment of light music from a hidden
orchestra.

The men were dressed in black and dark blue jerseys, or long jackets
with silver buttons, and enormously loose trousers, each leg of which
gave the effect of a half-deflated balloon. At their brown throats
glittered knobs of silver or gold, and there was another lightning-flash
of precious metal at the waist. Their hair was cut straight across the
forehead, over the ears and at the back of the neck, as if the barber
had clapped on a bowl and trimmed round it; and from under the brims of
impudent looking caps, glowed narrow, defiant blue eyes.

But though the men are well enough as pictures, it is the women and
children of Marken who have made the fortune of the little island as a
show place; and to-day they were at their best, raking the golden hay,
their yellow hair, their brilliant complexions, and still more brilliant
costumes dazzling in the afternoon sunlight.

We landed, and nobody appeared to pay the slightest attention to us.
That is part of the daily play; but I was the only one who knew this,
and seeing these charming, wonderful creatures peacefully pursuing their
pastoral occupations as if there were no stranger eyes to stare, I was
reproached for my base insinuations.

"How could you call them 'sharpers'?" cried Phyllis. "They're
loves--darlings. I could kiss every one of them. They have the most
angelic faces, and the children--why, they're _cherubs_."

It was true. The picture was idyllic, if slightly sensational in
coloring. There was scarcely a woman who was not pretty; and a female
thing must be plain indeed not to look charming in the gorgeous costume
of Marken. The snow-and-rose complexions, the sky-blue eyes, the golden
fringe, and two long yellow curls, one on either side the face, falling
to the breast from under tight-fitting mob caps covered with lace; the
short, very full blue and black skirts; the richly embroidered bodices,
brilliant as the breast of a parrot; the filmy fichus and white sleeves;
the black sabots with painted wreaths of roses, turned the little harbor
of Marken into a rare flower-garden. The ex