“How perfectly amazing!” she exclaimed. “Oh, Mrs. Floyd-Rosney, how did you distinguish and recognize one of them Thursday afternoon?” Paula’s mind was so engrossed that, quick as she was always to discern the fluctuations of favor in her husband’s disposition toward her, she had not observed his peculiar notice of the fact of her retentive memory and keen perception in distinguishing the veiled identity of the man who had once been dear to her,--once? “Oh, I saw the difference instantly,” she declared, with what her husband considered an undignified glibness, and an interest especially unbecoming in a matter so personal, which should be barred to her by the circumstances. “This is Randal, and this is Mr. Adrian Ducie.” Indeed, they all noticed, with varying sentiments, the familiar use of the Christian name, but only Adrian spoke in his debonair fashion. “Right-o! I begin to breathe once more. I was afraid I was going to have to be Randal.” Miss Dean was still studying the aspect of the two brothers. “I believe you are correct, Mrs. Floyd-Rosney,” she said slowly. “For this one, Mr. Adrian Ducie, is just from France, and he has on Paris-made shoes,--I know the last. It is the _dernier cri_.” There was a general laugh. “Blessed Saint Crispin! I’ll make a votive offering!” cried Adrian. “Now, Randal, you stay away from me,” with a vigorous push of his brother at arm’s length, “so that this mix-up can’t happen again.” “I’ll borrow his shoes when he is asleep and he will never know himself any more!” said Randal vindictively. There was a sudden cheerful acclaim from the portico without. A boat had been sighted, slowly rounding the point, a packet of the line this time, and all was bustle preparatory to embarkation. Even now the whistle, husky, loud, widely blaring, filled the air, signaling the approaching landing, the Captain having received information when passing the _Cherokee Rose_ of the plight of the refugees. The next moment they were sheepishly laughing, for the steamer, the _Nixie_, was sending forth a second blast, a prolonged whining shriek, the signal known on the river as a “begging whistle” by which boats solicit patronage in passengers or freight, and which is usually sounded only when there is a doubt whether a stoppage is desired.