us as to what was to be done about the launching; and the
name, you know, that is to be decided on--are you going to let it be
called after you?"

"Not I, indeed. I should always be reading in the papers of horrible
accidents that had happened to the 'Sally Kittridge.'"

"Sally has so set her heart on my being unlucky," said Moses, "that I
believe if I make a prosperous voyage, the disappointment would injure
her health."

"She doesn't mean what she says," said Mara; "but I think there are some
objections in a young lady's name being given to a ship."

"Then I suppose, Mara," said Moses, "that you would not have yours
either?"

"I would be glad to accommodate you in anything _but_ that," said Mara,
quietly; but she added, "Why need the ship be named for anybody? A ship
is such a beautiful, graceful thing, it should have a fancy name."

"Well, suggest one," said Moses.

"Don't you remember," said Mara, "one Saturday afternoon, when you and
Sally and I launched your little ship down in the cove after you had
come from your first voyage at the Banks?"

"I do," said Sally. "We called that the Ariel, Mara, after that old torn
play you were so fond of. That's a pretty name for a ship."

"Why not take that?" said Mara.

"I bow to the decree," said Moses. "The Ariel it shall be."

"Yes; and you remember," said Sally, "Mr. Moses here promised at that
time that he would build a ship, and take us two round the world with
him."

Moses's eyes fell upon Mara as Sally said these words with a sort of
sudden earnestness of expression which struck her. He was really feeling
very much about something, under all the bantering disguise of his
demeanor, she said to herself. Could it be that he felt unhappy about
his prospects with Sally? That careless liveliness of hers might wound
him perhaps now, when he felt that he was soon to leave her.

Mara was conscious herself of a deep undercurrent of sadness as the time
approached for the ship to sail that should carry Moses from her, and
she could not but think some such feeling must possess her mind. In vain
she looked into Sally's great Spanish eyes for any signs of a lurking
softness or tenderness concealed under her sparkling vivacity. Sally's
eyes were admirable windows of exactly the right size and color for an
earnest, tender spirit to look out of, but just now there was nobody at
the casement but a slippery elf peering out in tricksy defiance.

When the three arrived at