im, your
tea's getting cold. Why shouldn't we have a children's party on board
one day next week? It isn't too late, is it?"

"Yes, sir," chimed in the Indiarubber Man. "A _pukka_ children's
party, with wind-sails for them to slither down and a merry-go-round on
the after-capstan?"

The Captain drank his tea thoughtfully; his blue eyes twinkled. "Let
us have a definition of _children_, Standish. I seem to remember a
certain bridesmaid at the Gunnery Lieutenant's wedding of what I
believe is technically called the 'flapper' age----"

"Quite right, sir," cut in the Torpedo Lieutenant. "Our lives were a
misery for weeks afterwards. He burbled about 'shy flowerets' in his
sleep, sir----"

The Indiarubber Man blushed hotly. "Not 't'll, sir. They're talking
rot. She thought I was ninety, and daft at that. They always do," he
added sighing, the sigh of a sore heart that motley traditionally
covers.

"I propose that we have no one older than Georgina or younger than
Cornelius James," suggested the Junior Watchkeeper. "That limits the
ages to between ten and seven, and then I think Standish's susceptible
heart would be out of danger."

"How many children do you propose to turn loose all over the ship?"
inquired the First Lieutenant dourly. "No one seems to have taken my
paint-work into consideration. It's all new this week."

The Skipper's Missus laughed softly. "We were so concerned about Mr.
Standish's heart, Mr. Hornby, that we quite forgot your paint-work.
Couldn't it be all covered up just for this once? Besides, they are
such tiny children . . ."

There are many skippers' missuses, but only one mother of Georgina,
Jane, and Cornelius James.

The First Lieutenant capitulated.

"I vote we don't have any grown-ups, either," contributed the Junior
Watchkeeper, "except ourselves. Mothers and nurses always spoil
children's parties."

The mother of Georgina, Jane, and Cornelius James wrung her hands in
mock dismay. "Oh, but mayn't I come? I promise not to spoil
anything--I love parties so!"

The A.P. rushed in where an angel might have been excused for
faltering. "Glegg means that you don't count as a grown-up at a
children's party," he explained naively, regarding the Skipper's Missus
through his glasses with dog-like devotion.

She laughed merrily. "You pay a pretty compliment, Mr. Gerrard!"

"Double-O" Gerrard reddened and lapsed into bashful silence.

"It is agreed, then. We are to h