tly, smiling down at her.

With a half-pleased feeling of discomfiture Ruth seated herself in the
stern, whereupon Kemp sat in the contested throne.

"You will have to excuse my turning my back on you, Mrs. Levice," he
said pleasantly.

"That is no hindrance to my volubility, I am glad to say; a back is not
very inspiring or expressive, but Ruth can tell me when you look bored
if I wax too discursive."

It was a tiny boat; and seated thus, Kemp's knees were not half a foot
from Ruth's white gown.

"Will you direct me?" he said, as he swept around. "I have not rowed on
this river for two or three years."

"You can keep straight ahead for some distance," she said, leaning back
in her seat.

She could not fail to notice the easy motion of his figure as he rowed
lightly down the river. His flannel shirt, low at the throat, showed his
strong white neck rising like a column from his broad shoulders, and
his dark face with the steady gray eyes looked across at her with grave
sweetness. She would have been glad enough to be able to turn from the
short range of vision between them; but the stars and river afforded her
good vantage-ground, and on them she fixed her gaze.

Mrs. Levice was in bright spirits, and seemed striving to outdo
the night in brilliancy. For a while Kemp maintained a sort of
Roland-for-an-Oliver conversation with her; but with his eyes
continually straying to the girl before him, it became rather
difficult. Some merry rowers down the river were singing college songs
harmoniously; and Mrs. Levice soon began to hum with them, her voice
gradually subsiding into a faint murmur. The balmy, summer-freighted
air made her feel drowsy. She listened absently to Ruth's occasional
warnings to Kemp, and to the swift dip of the oars.

"Now we have clear sailing for a stretch," said Ruth, as they came to a
broad curve. "Did you think you were going to be capsized when we shot
over that snag, Mamma?"

She leaned a little farther forward, looking past Kemp.

"Mamma!"

Then she straightened herself back in her seat. Kemp, noting the sudden
flush that had rushed to and from her cheek, turned halfway to look at
Mrs. Levice. Her head was leaning against the flag-staff; her eyes were
closed, in the manner of more wary chaperones,--Mrs. Levice slept.

Dr. Kemp moved quietly back to his former position.

Far across the river a woman's silvery voice was singing the sweet old
love-song, "Juanita;" overhead, the gold