one of her opponents. They had a sweepstakes, of course, and Macleod
drew the favorite. But then he proceeded to explain to Miss White that
the handicapping by means of time allowances made the choice of a
favorite a mere matter of guesswork; that the fouling at the start was
of but little moment: and that on the whole she ought to exchange yachts
with him.

"But if the chances are all equal, why should your yacht be better than
mine?" said she.

The argument was unanswerable; but she took the favorite for all that,
because he wished her to do so; and she tendered him in return the bit
of folded paper with the name of a rival yacht on it. It had been in her
purse for a minute or two. It was scented when she handed it to him.

"I should like to go to the Mediterranean in one of those beautiful
yachts," she said, looking away across the troubled waters, "and lie and
dream under the blue skies. I should want no other occupation than that:
that would be real idleness, with a breath of wind now and then to
temper the heat; and an awning over the deck; and a lot of books. Life
would go by like a dream."

Her eyes were distant and pensive. To fold the bits of paper, she had
taken off her gloves: he regarded the small white hands, with the blue
veins and the pink, almond-shaped nails. She was right. That was the
proper sort of existence for one so fine and pale, and perfect even to
the finger-tips. Rose Leaf--Rose Leaf--what faint wind will carry you
away to the south?

At this moment the band struck up a lively air. What was it?

"O this is no my ain lassie,
Fair though the lassie be."

"You are in great favor, to-day, Hugh," Mrs. Ross said to her husband.
"You will have to ask the band-master to lunch with us."

But this sharp alternative of a well-known air had sent Macleod's
thoughts flying away northward, to scenes far different from these flat
shores, and to a sort of boating very different from this summer
sailing. Janet, too: what was she thinking of--far away in Castle Dare?
Of the wild morning on which she insisted on crossing to one of the
Freshnist islands, because of the sick child of a shepherd there; and of
the open herring smack, and she sitting on the ballast stones; and of
the fierce gale of wind and rain that hid the island from their sight;
and of her landing, drenched to the skin, and with the salt-water
running from her hair and down her face?

"Now for lunch," said Colonel Ross; and t