as I do before you and William
invented your horrid machine. Everybody in the world married at hazard,
after being engaged to various interesting young men. And I'm not
demoralized; I'm only old-fashioned enough to take chances. Please let
me."

The family regarded her sadly. In their amalgamated happiness they
deplored her reluctance to enter where perfect bliss was guaranteed.

Her choice of role and costume for the Seawanhaka Club water tableaux
they also disapproved of; for she had chosen to represent a character now
superfluous and out of date--the Lorelei who lured Teutonic yachtsmen to
destruction with her singing some centuries ago. And that, in these
times, was ridiculous, because, fortified by a visit to the nearest
Destyn-Carr machine, no weak-minded young sailorman would care what a
Lorelei might do; and she could sing her pretty head off and comb herself
bald before any Destyn-Carr inoculated mariner would be lured overboard.

But Flavilla obstinately insisted on her scaled and fish-tailed costume.
When her turn came, a spot-light on the clubhouse was to illuminate the
float and reveal her, combing her golden hair with a golden comb and
singing away like the Musical Arts.

"And," she thought secretly, "if there remains upon this machine-made
earth one young man worth my kind consideration, it wouldn't surprise me
very much if he took a header off the Yacht Club wharf and requested me
to be his. And I'd be very likely to listen to his suggestion."

So in secret hopes of this pleasing episode--but not giving any such
reason to her protesting family--she vigorously resisted all attempts to
deprive her of her fish scales, golden comb, and role in the coming water
fete. And now the programmes were printed and it was too late for them to
intervene.

She rose, holding out the glittering, finny garment, which flashed like a
collapsed fish in the sunshine.

"It's finished," she said. "Now I'm going off somewhere by myself to
rehearse."

"In the water?" asked her father uneasily.

"Certainly."

As Flavilla was a superb swimmer nobody could object. Later, a maid went
down to the landing, stowed away luncheon, water-bottles and costume in
the canoe. Later, Flavilla herself came down to the water's edge,
hatless, sleeves rolled up, balancing a paddle across her shoulders.

As the paddle flashed and the canoe danced away over the sparkling waters
of Oyster Bay, Flavilla hummed the threadbare German song whi