Among them, close to the ropes, viewing the ceremony with the cynical eye of one who in Europe had seen kings and emperors meet upon the Field of the Cloth of Gold, was Everett. He made no effort to bring himself to the attention of his former chief. But when the introductions were over, the Secretary of State turned his eyes to his fellow countrymen crowding the rails of the American steamer. They greeted him with cheers. The great man raised his hat, and his eyes fell upon Everett. The Secretary advanced quickly, his hand extended, brushing to one side the standing army. "What are you doing here?" he demanded. "On my way home, sir," said Everett. "I couldn't leave sooner; there were--personal reasons. But I cabled the department my resignation the day Mendoza gave me my walking-papers. You may remember," Everett added dryly, "the department accepted by cable." The great man showed embarrassment. "It was most unfortunate," he sympathized. "We wanted that treaty, and while, no doubt, you made every effort--" He became aware of the fact that Everett's attention was not exclusively his own. Following the direction of the young man's eyes the Secretary saw on the deck just above them, leaning upon the rail, a girl in deep mourning. She was very beautiful. Her face was as lovely as a violet and as shy. To the Secretary a beautiful woman was always a beautiful woman. But he had read the papers. Who had not? He was sure there must be some mistake. This could not be the sister of a criminal; the woman for whom Everett had smashed his career. The Secretary masked his astonishment, but not his admiration. "Mrs. Everett?" he asked. His very tone conveyed congratulations. "Yes," said the ex-diplomat. "Some day I shall be glad to present you." The Secretary did not wait for an introduction. Raising his eyes to the ship's rail, he made a deep and courtly bow. With a gesture worthy of d'Artagnan, his high hat swept the wharf. The members of his staff, the officers from the war-ships, the President of Honduras and the members of his staff endeavored to imitate his act of homage, and in confusion Mrs. Everett blushed becomingly. "When I return to Washington," said the Secretary hastily, "come and see me. You are too valuable to lose. Your career--" Again Everett was looking at his wife. Her distress at having been so suddenly drawn into the lime-light amused him, and he was smiling. Then, as though aware of the Secretary's meaning, he laughed. "My dear sir!" he protested. His tone suggested he was about to add "mind your own business," or "go to the devil." Instead he said: "I'm not worrying about my career. My career has just begun." THE BOY SCOUT