uncomfortable. Mr. Frere, you don't play?"

"Oh, yes!" says Frere, unable to withstand the charming pout that
accompanied the words. "I'll play. What am I to do?"

"You must walk on this side, and be respectful. Of course it is only
Pretend, you know," she added, with a quick consciousness of Frere's
conceit. "Now then, the Queen goes down to the Seashore surrounded by
her Nymphs! There is no occasion to laugh, Mr. Frere. Of course, Nymphs
are very different from you, but then we can't help that."

Marching in this pathetically ridiculous fashion across the sand, they
halted at the coracle. "So that is the boat!" says the Queen, fairly
surprised out of her assumption of dignity. "You are a Wonderful Man,
Mr. Dawes!"

Rufus Dawes smiled sadly. "It is very simple."

"Do you call this simple?" says Frere, who in the general joy had
shaken off a portion of his sulkiness. "By George, I don't! This is
ship-building with a vengeance, this is. There's no scheming about
this--it's all sheer hard work."

"Yes!" echoed Sylvia, "sheer hard work--sheer hard work by good Mr.
Dawes!" And she began to sing a childish chant of triumph, drawing lines
and letters in the sand the while, with the sceptre of the Queen.

"Good Mr. Dawes! Good Mr. Dawes! This is the work of Good Mr. Dawes!"

Maurice could not resist a sneer.

"See-saw, Margery Daw, Sold her bed, and lay upon straw!" said he.

"Good Mr. Dawes!" repeated Sylvia. "Good Mr. Dawes! Why shouldn't I say
it? You are disagreeable, sir. I won't play with you any more," and she
went off along the sand.

"Poor little child," said Rufus Dawes. "You speak too harshly to her."

Frere--now that the boat was made--had regained his self-confidence.
Civilization seemed now brought sufficiently close to him to warrant his
assuming the position of authority to which his social position entitled
him. "One would think that a boat had never been built before to hear
her talk," he said. "If this washing-basket had been one of my old
uncle's three-deckers, she couldn't have said much more. By the Lord!"
he added, with a coarse laugh, "I ought to have a natural talent for
ship-building; for if the old villain hadn't died when he did, I should
have been a ship-builder myself."

Rufus Dawes turned his back at the word "died", and busied himself with
the fastenings of the hides. Could the other have seen his face, he
would have been struck by its sudden pallor.

"Ah!" continued Frere, hal