scious at last of his regards, turned and looked at him.

"You could say you tumbled in, Arthur, and then he would get the medal,"
she said, softly.

"_Say!_" shouted the overwrought Mr. Heard. "Say I tum--"

Words failed him. He stood swaying and regarding the company for a
moment, and then, flinging open the door, closed it behind him with a
bang that made the house tremble.

The mate followed half an hour later, escorted to the ship by the entire
Smith family. Fortified by the presence of Miss Smith, he pointed out
the exact scene of the rescue without a tremor, and, when her father
narrated the affair to the skipper, whom they found sitting on deck
smoking a last pipe, listened undismayed to that astonished mariner's
comments.

News of the mate's heroic conduct became general the next day, and work
on the ketch was somewhat impeded in consequence. It became a point of
honor with Mr. Heard's fellow-townsmen to allude to the affair as
an accident, but the romantic nature of the transaction was well
understood, and full credit given to Mr. Dix for his self-denial in the
matter of the medal. Small boys followed him in the street, and half
Pebblesea knew when he paid a visit to the Smith's, and discussed his
chances. Two nights afterwards, when he and Miss Smith went for a
walk in the loneliest spot they could find, conversation turned almost
entirely upon the over-crowded condition of the British Isles.

The _Starfish_ was away for three weeks, but the little town no longer
looked dull to the mate as she entered the harbor one evening and glided
slowly towards her old berth. Emma Smith was waiting to see the
ship come in, and his taste for all other amusements had temporarily
disappeared.

For two or three days the course of true love ran perfectly smooth;
then, like a dark shadow, the figure of Arthur Heard was thrown across
its path. It haunted the quay, hung about the house, and cropped up
unexpectedly in the most distant solitudes. It came up behind the mate
one evening just as he left the ship and walked beside him in silence.

"Halloa," said the mate, at last.

"Halloa," said Mr. Heard. "Going to see Emma?"

"I'm going to see Miss Smith," said the mate.

Mr. Heard laughed; a forced, mirthless laugh.

"And we don't want you following us about," said Mr. Dix, sharply.
"If it'll ease your mind, and do you any good to know, you never had a
chance She told me so."

[Illustration: And we don't want you f