"Oh, how d'ye do--Mrs. ----" For the life of him, he couldn't remember the lady's name. "Lovely day--er, yes; have you seen Marcia anywhere?" "Yes; she's been walking up and down here for an hour with Victor Masterson and my----" "With--what did you say his name was?" "Victor Masterson." "Is he an Englishman?" "Oh, no; very much of an American, I should say--oh, most amusing and entertaining. My daughter has met him somewhere. I think you will find the young people up in that direction, playing some game or other." The admiral thanked the swaddled lady and strode forward impatiently. All at once he stopped. "I wonder," said he to himself, "if that's the silly ass I squelched t'other day in the smoke-room; just like Marcia to have picked him out!" * * * * * In the sunniest corner of the promenade-deck a quartermaster had laid the numbered squares of a shuffleboard. The game was over, but two young people still lingered, leaning against the rail. One was a tall, slender girl with red lips, red cheeks, tan-colored hair, and tan shoes, and the other was a very slight, extremely round-faced young man whose attire and manners could best be described as "insistent." He was one of the kind that appears in all weathers without a hat and that persists in attracting attention to large feet and bony ankles by wearing turned-up trousers, low shoes, and vivid half-hose. At this moment he was enjoying himself, and so was the girl. "Was he large and rather red-faced?" she asked, following up something her companion was saying. "Yes, with two bunches of iron-gray spinach growing down like this; and he beckoned me over to him and said, 'Young man, you're playing the clown'; and I said, 'You play you're the elephant, and we'll be a circus.'" The round-faced one te-heed in a way that was contagious; Miss Dorn quite loved him for it. "Do that again," she said. "Do what?" "Make that little squeak." He looked at her with mock seriousness. "Oh, please don't! Please don't!" He spoke imploringly. "I am very touchy about my laugh--it's the only one I've got, you know. It's quite childish, isn't it? Never grew up, you know." He made the funny little sound again. It was like the bleating of a toy lamb when its head is twisted. "You know, they ask me how I do it. I don't know; I try to teach other people--they never seem to get it right. Do you like it?" Miss Dorn laughed again and looked gratefully at him. "Oh, I'm so glad I met you!" she said quite frankly--and then, mischievously: "I'll ask my uncle to forgive you, if you like." "Your uncle!" "Yes, the old gentleman with the--er--spinach." If Mr. Masterson was simulating embarrassment, he did it very cleverly: he started to say something once or twice, changed his mind confusedly, and suddenly, putting the shuffleboard stick under his arm, began to imitate a guitar. Miss Dorn applauded. "Splendid! You should play in the orchestra."