No answer, and soon Charles Wilbur completed his infamy by a long and regular breathing that assured his wife that he was sleeping the sleep of the unjust and the outrageous. Léonie arose a few hours later to a hard day. Mrs. Wilbur had a headache and did not leave her bed. Diana, with dark shadows under her eyes, came in to make a dutiful visit of condolence, and was well snubbed. She retreated to the deck, where her father was cheerfully watching the life of the cove. "Good-morning, dear," he said, turning and putting his arm around her. "We have your mother laid out, haven't we?" "Why, Daddy, what is the matter? The coördination of her nervous system seems entirely thrown out." He smiled heartlessly. "She didn't sleep much, honey. Neither did you," regarding her closely. "No, Daddy," she replied, rather breathlessly. "I seem to be more reposeful when the yacht is in motion." "'Rocked in the cradle of the deep,' eh? Want to go ashore this morning?" "No, I think not. Mrs. Lowell is coming out for tea this afternoon, a little good-bye visit." "All right, then. What do you say to some cribbage?" "Fine, if we cannot be of any assistance to Mamma. Are you sure?" "Yes, my love. She has been drinking heavily of 'the wine of astonishment' and must sleep it off. If there is any humble pie on board, you might have Léonie take her some for luncheon." "What are you talking about, Daddy? Poor Mamma!" "Yes, she is absolutely one of the finest. I thought so when she was eighteen, and cute, with a little turn-up nose and dimples something like that Veronica girl, and I think so now; but the best of women must sometimes lie by until they get a new perspective." "Daddy, I don't understand you. You and Mamma have--have differed about something, I fear." "Well, it--it might be described that way. Morris,"--turning toward his valet who was near,--"the cribbage-board, please." Diana strove valiantly not to have a miserable day. She played cribbage with her father until luncheon was served on deck. Then she gave orders for her tea, and Léonie came to remind her of her promise that she might show Bill Lindsay over the yacht. He arrived about the same time as Mrs. Lowell, and Léonie, frightened to death of her mistress's strange mood, besought Diana to remain with her mother while she should fulfill the promise to her island pal, and bid him a long and racking farewell. So Diana left Mrs. Lowell with her father while she ventured to her mother's bedside and sat down, silently. A handkerchief, redolent of cologne, covered the sufferer's eyes. "Who is that?" came faintly from the blinded one. "It is I, Mamma," said Diana meekly. "Are you feeling a little better?" "Diana,"--the voice was still faint but stern,--"have I been a good mother to you?" "Mamma, dear, there never was a better. How can you ask?" "Because no one else thinks so."