"I did; and they all promised to come if it was possible," pleaded the skipper. "I am very sorry they did not, and that you are so much dissatisfied with your present company." "Why, no, Mr. Waterford; I did not say that, and did not mean it," interposed Marian. "I only say that half the fun on the water is having a good lively party. You know what a nice time we had singing and chatting the last time we went." "We had a pleasant time. I thought, from what you said, that you considered your present company rather disagreeable, and the excursion a failure." "You know I did not mean any such thing as that, Mr. Waterford," said Marian, reproachfully. "You are very kind to invite me at all, and it is very ungrateful for me to say anything; but I do like a lively party." "I am afraid it is only a selfish thing on my part," added the skipper, as he bestowed upon his beautiful companion a look of admiration, beneath which she blushed even as she gazed into the clear waters of the lake. "Phil," called he, turning to me. "Here," I replied, springing up from my reclining posture on the forward deck. "I wish you would hoist the new burgee. We ought to wear our gayest colors to-day." "Where is it?" "In the cabin after locker, starboard side. Run it up, if you please." I went into the cabin, and found the flag. It was a gay affair, in bright colors, with the new name of the yacht inscribed upon it. I attached it to the halyards, and ran it up to the mast-head. Miss Collingsby took no notice of it, but continued to gaze into the water. "What do you think of my new burgee, Miss Collingsby?" asked the skipper. "It is very pretty indeed," she replied, with more indifference than it seemed quite polite to display. "It is as gay as the rest of the boat. You are fond of bright colors, Mr. Waterford." "In a boat, I am. Do you see the name which is upon it?" "Marian!" exclaimed she, after spelling out the name upon the flag. "What does that mean?" "It is the name of the boat." "Why, the last time I sailed in her, she was called the Michigan." "That is very true, but she is called the Marian now," replied Mr. Waterford, trying to look very amiable and modest. "That's my name." "Certainly; and that's the reason why I gave it to my boat." "Indeed, you do me a very great honor, and I am grateful to you for it." "No; the honor is done to me, if you don't object to the name." "Of course I cannot object to my own name." "You may object to having it upon my boat." "It is a very beautiful boat, and I am sorry you did not give it a better name." "There is no better or prettier name in the whole world." "I don't think so." "I do," answered Mr. Waterford, with emphasis. "I was sick of the old name--the Michigan." "Probably you will soon be sick of the new one--the Marian," added Miss Collingsby, still gazing into the water. "Never!" protested the gallant skipper. "I am afraid you will, as you were of the old one."