Some sounds there are which elude the efforts of the most onomatopoeic pen. Still, as nearly as may be-- "Buh!" said the damsel. "Buh--huh--_huh!_" "Oh, in that case." The Tyro turned back. There was a long pause, while the girl struggled for self-command, during which her squire had time to observe with some surprise that she had a white glove on her left hand and a tan one on her right, and that her apparel seemed to have been put on without due regard to the cardinal points of the compass. Through the veil she perceived and interpreted his appraisal. "I'm a dowdy frump!" she lamented, half-voiced. "I dressed myself while Marie was packing. But you needn't be so--so supercilious about it." "I'm not," protested he, conscience-stricken. "You are! When you look at me that way I hate you! I'm not sorry I was nasty to you. I'm glad! I wish I'd been nastier!" The Tyro bent upon her a fascinated but baleful regard. "Angel child," said he in sugared accents, "appease my curiosity. Answer me one question." "I won't. What is it?" "Did you ever have your ears boxed?" "Never!" she said indignantly. "I thought as much." "You'd like to do it, perhaps." "I'd love to. It would do me--I mean you--so much good." "Maybe I'll let you if you'll help me get away. I know they'll find me!" At the prospect the melancholy one once more abandoned herself to the tragedy of existence. "And you don't do a thing but m-m-make fu-fu-fun of me." Contrition softened the heart of the Tyro. "Oh, look here, Niobe," he began. "My name _isn't_ Niobe!" "Well, your nature's distinctly Niobish. I've got to call you something." "You haven't! You haven't got to ever speak to me again. They'll find me, and catch me, and send me back, and I'll marry that--that _Creature_, if that's what you want." This was the _argumentum ad hominem_ with a vengeance. "_I_ want? What on earth have I got to do with it?" "Nothing! Nobody has anything to do with it. Nobody gives a--a--a _darn_ for me. Oh, I wish I were back home!" "Now you're talking sense. The pilot-boat is your play." "Oh! And you said you'd help me." And then the last barrier gave way, and the floods swept down and immersed speech for the moment. "Oh, come! Brace up, little girl." His voice was all kindness now. "If you're really bound to get away--" "I am," came the muffled voice. "But have you got any place to go?" "Yes." "Where?" "My married sister's in London." "Truly?" "I can show you a cablegram if you don't believe me." "That's all right, then. I'll take a chance. Now for one deep, dark, and deadly plot. If the pilot-boat is after you, they'll look up your name and cabin on the passenger list." "I didn't give my real name." "Oho! Well, your father might wire a description." "It's just the kind of thing he would do." "Therefore you'd better change your clothes." "No. I'd better not. This awful mess is a regular disguise for me." "And if you could contrive to stop crying--"