ssion more buoyant. Merry voices of
shuffleboard players drifted forward. Young couples paced the deck and
leaned over the rail to watch the phosphorescent glow. The open windows
of the smoking-room gave forth the tinkle of glasses and the low rattle
of chips. All sounds blended into a mellow harmony.

"What's your price on a whole constellation with a lovers' moon thrown
in?" inquired a young man lounging in a deck chair.

The vendor of stars looked at him in her direct serious fashion. "I fink
I tan't sell you all 'at, but I'll make you a moon to go wiv the
stars--not a weally twuly one, jus' a make-believe moon," she added in a
whisper.

An irritated voice made itself heard. "Steward, have you seen that child
anywhere? The naughty little brat has run away again--and I left her
only a minute."

The dealer in celestial supplies came to earth.

"I'm goin' to be smacked," she announced with grave conviction.

An unvoiced conspiracy formed itself instantly in her behalf. A lady in
a steamer chair gathered the child under the shelter of her rug. An
eight-year-old youngster knotted his fists valiantly. The young man who
had priced a constellation considered the chances of a cutting-out
expedition.

"She should have been in bed long ago. I just stepped out to speak to
our room steward and when I came back she was gone," the annoyed
governess was explaining.

Discovery was imminent. The victim prepared herself for the worst.

"I don't care," she protested to her protector. "It's ever so nicer to
stay up, an' if it wasn't runnin' away it would be somefing else."

At this bit of philosophy the lounger chuckled, rose swiftly, and
intercepted the dragon.

"When do I get that walk you promised me, Miss Lupton? What's the matter
with right now?"

The governess was surprised, since it was the first she had heard of any
walk. Flattered she was, but still faithful to duty.

"I'm looking for Moya. She knows she must always go to her room after
tea and stay there. The naughty child ran away."

"She's all right. I saw her snuggled under a rug with Mrs. Curtis not
two minutes ago. Just a turn or two in this lovely night."

Drawn by the magnet of his manhood, Moya slipped into the chair beside
the eight-year-old.

"I'd kick her darned shins if she spanked me," boasted he of the eight
years.

Moya admired his courage tremendously. Her dark eyes followed the
retreating figure of her governess. "I'm 'fraid."

"Hm! Bet