was Francis Horatio Nelson Drake, and he was full of great
accounts of the goings-on in the outer world, where his school was, and
where lived the only "men" worth talking about. Of course he spoke of all
this familiarly and with a convincing reality which wrapped Glory in the
plumage of dreams. He was a wonderful being, altogether, and in due time
(about three days) she proposed to him. True, he did not jump at her
offer with quite proper alacrity, but when she mentioned that it didn't
matter to her in the least whether he wanted her or not, and that plenty
would be glad of the chance, he saw things differently, and they agreed
to elope. There was no particular reason for this drastic measure, but as
Glory had a boat, it seemed the right thing to do.

She dressed herself in all her Confirmation finery, and stole out to meet
him under the bridge where her boat lay moored. He kept her half an hour
waiting, having sisters and other disadvantages, but "once aboard her
lugger," he was safe. She was breathless, and he was anxious, and neither
thought it necessary to waste any time in kissing.

They slipped down the harbour and out into the bay, and then ran up the
sail and stood off for Scotland. Being more easy in mind when this was
done, they had time to talk of the future. Francis Horatio was for
work--he was going to make a name for himself. Glory did not see it quite
in that light. A name, yes, and lots of triumphal processions, but she
was for travel--there were such lots of things people could see if they
didn't waste so much time working.

"What a girl you are!" he said derisively; whereupon she bit her lip, for
she didn't quite like it. But they were nearly half an hour out before he
spoiled himself utterly. He had brought his dog, a she-terrier, and he
began to call her by her kennel name and to say what a fine little thing
she was, and what a deal of money they would make by her pups. That was
too much for Glory. She couldn't think of eloping with a person who used
such low expressions.

"What a girl you are!" he said again; but she did not mind it in the
least. With a sweep of her bare arm she had put the tiller hard aport,
intending to tack back to Peel, but the wind had freshened and the sea
was rising, and by the swift leap of the boat the boom was snapped, and
the helpless sail came napping down upon the mast. Then they tumbled into
the trough, and Glory had not strength to pull them out of it, and the
boy