"There must be a mistake, sir," said the steward, "you must have forgotten, your name is one of those on the subscription paper in the companionway bulletin board." "My name on the paper? Quit your kidding." "O, but it is, sir. I made a careful copy myself, sir, of all the names, and I'm sure I'm right." "Then I must have done it in my sleep," exclaimed the puzzled McGregor. "Where is the bulletin board?" "I'll show you, sir," and the steward led the way to the saloon deck. Shortly they stood before the board in question. There were a number of notices on the board, but the steward pointed out the one in question. "There it is, sir, and there's your name," triumphantly. "We, the Undersigned, subscribe to the Widows and Orphans Fund the amount set after each of our names:" McGregor's jaw dropped as he read the notice. Then in amazement his eye traveled down the long list of signatures till it fell on his own. "It is sure enough my signature and no forgery. But when in the name of Mike did I do it?" He gazed in helpless wonder at Marjorie who had accompanied him to the companionway. "Seems to me I've seen that list before," said Miss Hasbrouck. "It looks like one that was attached to a letter I received to-day." McGregor stepped up to the board, scrutinized the subscription paper closely, then took out the thumb tacks which secured it to the board itself. "Look," he said, displaying the back of the paper. "The Codfish has put one over on us. This list has been very neatly pasted onto the bottom of the Widows and Orphans Fund subscription paper, and as both were written on ship's paper the deception was a clever one." "O, my, the wretch!" said Marjorie. "The young runt," quoth McGregor in high dudgeon, "wait till I get at him!" But he did not get at the Codfish just then for that individual kept himself out of sight until the next morning. The story went the rounds of the ship as might naturally be expected, and not a few of the team members, seeing that the Codfish had made a neat shift of the joke onto their own heads, paid up their alleged subscriptions so that the Fund was a gainer in the end. Sad to relate, however, the standing of the Codfish with the Hasbrouck family was gone, never to return. His best efforts next morning failed to draw even a look of recognition from Marjorie's bright eyes as she passed and repassed him during the deck promenade, tripping along gaily between two members of the team. Once he thought he caught the expression as she passed: "That horrid boy." From Mrs. Hasbrouck he could only draw a frigid nod. "And that's all the thanks I get for boosting the old fund," said the Codfish to himself. "Well, never mind, women are fickle. I'll have no more of them in my whole life," and he went his way whistling a merry tune. That afternoon as the ship was passing up Southampton Water the Codfish found Frank leaning on the rail watching the beautiful and ever-shifting panorama opening before him.