being put out. At
your age, to miss the sun from out of the heavens--and Miss Wayne is
certainly a fascinating and dangerous young person. Considering that she
is barely twenty-one, it is quite remarkable."

"Remarkable?" repeated the Tyro vaguely.

"Considering that she is barely twenty-one, I said."

The Tyro rubbed his head. Was loneliness befuddling his brain? "I'm
afraid I'm stupid," he apologized.

"I'm afraid your fears are well based."

"But--_what's_ remarkable?"

"It's remarkable that you should be deaf as well as dumb," retorted the
other, testily. "To resume: considering that she is barely
twenty-one--not nearly, but _barely_ twenty-one, you'll note--"

"You needn't go any further," cried the youth, suddenly enlightened.
"Twenty-one is legal age on the high seas?"

"It is."

"Then she's her own mistress and the captain has no more authority over
her than over me?"

"So much, I have reason to believe, an eminent legal authority pointed
out to the captain yesterday."

"Why didn't that same eminent authority point it out to me before?"

"Before? I object to the implication. I haven't pointed it out to you
now. Your own natural, if somewhat sluggish intelligence inferred it
from a random remark about a friend's age."

"Does she know it?"

"She does."

"Since when?"

"Since some forty-eight hours."

"Then, why on earth didn't she tell me? She knew I didn't dare speak to
her. But she never said a word."

"Give me," began the judge, "five" (here the Tyro reached for his
pocket, but the other repudiated the gesture with a wave of the hand)
"million dollars, and I wouldn't undertake to guess why any female
between the ages of one and one hundred years, does or does not do any
given thing. I'm no soothsayer."

"Then I may speak to her to-morrow, without fear of making trouble?"

"You may certainly speak to her--if you can find her. As for trouble, I
wouldn't care to answer for you," chuckled the judge. "Good-night to
you."

The Tyro sat up late, asking questions of the moon, who, being also of
feminine gender, obstinately declined to betray the secrets of the sex.

VIII

Eighth day out.

Glorious sunshine, a tingling wind,
and the ship just "inchin'
along like a poor inch-worm."

Everything's wrong with the ship;--
Everything's right with the world.

Perfectly satisfied with the Macgregor
hospitality. She