further endearing himself to her by listening with flattering
attention to such narratives as she was pleased to relate for his
benefit. Indeed, they were rapidly becoming fast friends and she was
seriously contemplating a snap-shot at his expense.

Mr. Grey, meanwhile, had joined the group in the sunshine, where he
stood, pipe in mouth, with his hands thrust deep into the pockets of
his reefer, regarding Gustav's awkwardness with kindly amusement.

"There they go, those energetic young persons!" Mr. De Witt observed,
a few minutes later, as Blythe and the Englishman walked past, in
search of the Captain, whom Mr. Grey had suggested as the next subject
for photographic prowess. "Do you suppose that really is Dalton?"

Mr. De Witt spoke with entire disregard of the fact that Mrs. Halliday
appeared to be slumbering tranquilly. And indeed an interrupted nap is
so easily made good on shipboard that Blythe used sometimes to beg her
mother to try and "fall awake" for a minute!

On this occasion, as she walked past with the alleged poet, she
remarked: "Even Mr. De Witt can't keep Mamma awake on shipboard, and
she isn't a bit of a sleepy person on dry land."

By way of response, Mr. Grey turned to contemplate the line of
steamer-chairs, billowy with voluminous wraps, saying: "Doesn't the
deck look like a sea becalmed? See! Those are the waves, too lazy to
break!"

"How funny the ocean would look if the waves forgot to turn over!"
Blythe exclaimed, glancing across the gently undulating surface of the
sea. "I don't suppose they've kept still one single instant in
millions of years!"

"Not since the Spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters," her
companion returned, with quiet emphasis; and Blythe felt surer than
ever that he really was the great poet whom people believed him to
be.

A moment later they had stormed the bridge, where they two, of all the
ship's company, were pretty sure of a welcome. They found the Captain
standing, with his sextant at his eye, the four gold stripes on his
sleeve gleaming gaily in the sunshine. Evidently things were going
right, for the visitors and their daring proposal were most graciously
received.

The fine old sea-dog stood like a man to be shot at; and as Blythe
faced him, kodak in hand, the breeze playing pranks with her hair and
blowing her golf-cape straight back from her shoulders, it was all so
exhilarating that before she knew it she had turned her little camera
upon t