And Captain John takes off his cap again; and is understood to tell the young lady that he will do his best, if she will excuse his not knowing much English. Then, with great care, and with some difficulty, Miss Avon is assisted down from the waggonette, and conducted along the rough little landing-slip, and helped into the stern of the shapely and shining gig. Away with her, boys! The splash of the oars is heard in the still bay; the shore recedes; the white sails seem to rise higher into the blue sky as we near the yacht; here is the black hull with its line of gold—the gangway open—the ropes ready—the white decks brilliant in the sun. We are on board at last. "And where will Mr. —— himself be for going?" asks John of Skye, as the men are hauling the gig up to the davits. Mr. —— briefly but seriously explains to the captain that, from some slight experience of the winds on this coast, he has found it of about as much use to order the tides to be changed as to settle upon any definite route. But he suggests the circumnavigation of the adjacent island of Mull as a sort of preliminary canter for a few days, until a certain notable guest shall arrive; and he would prefer going by the south, if the honourable winds will permit. Further, John of Skye is not to be afraid of a bit of sea, on account of either of those ladies; both are excellent sailors. With these somewhat vague instructions, Captain John is left to get the yacht under way; and we go below to look after the stowage of our things in the various staterooms. And what is this violent altercation going on, in the saloon? "I will not have a word said against my captain," says Mary Avon. "I am in love with him already. His English is perfectly correct." This impertinent minx talking about correct English in the presence of the Laird of Denny-mains! "Mrs. —— herself is perfectly correct; it is only politeness; it is like saying ’Your Grace’ to a Duke." But who was denying it? Surely not the imperious little woman who was arranging her flowers on the saloon table; nor yet Denny-mains, who was examining a box of variegated and recondite fishing-tackle? "It is all very well for fine ladies to laugh at the blunders of servant maids," continues this audacious girl. "’Miss Brown presents her compliments to Miss Smith; and would you be so kind,’ and so on. But don’t they often make the same blunder themselves?" Well, this was a discovery! "Doesn’t Mrs. So-and-So request the honour of the company of Mr. So-and-So or Miss So-and-So for some purpose or other; and then you find at one corner of the card ’_R.S.V.P._?’ ’Answer if YOU please’!" A painful silence prevailed. We began to reflect. Whom did she mean to charge with this deadly crime? But her triumph makes her considerate. She will not harry us with scorn. "It is becoming far less common now, however," she remarks. "’An answer is requested,’ is much more sensible."