she says
she knows you. Not all of us attain our heart's desire so simply."

"Know her!" cried the amazed Tyro. "I swear I don't. Why, I could no
more forget that face--"

"Don't tell her that or she'll catch you up on it since she knows you
have forgotten."

"What is her name?"

"Ah, that I'm forbidden to tell. 'If he has forgotten me so easily,'
said she--and she seemed really hurt--'I think I can dispense with his
further acquaintance.'"

"If I should break through that piffling bodyguard now--"

"If you want some rather high-priced advice for nothing," said the old
and mischievous lawyer, "don't do it. You might not be well received."

"Are you in the secret, then?"

"Secret? Is there any secret? A very charming girl who says she knows
you finds herself forgotten by you. And you've been maladroit enough to
betray the fact. Naturally she is not pleased. Nothing very mysterious
in that."

Thereupon the pestered youth retired in distress and dudgeon to his
cabin to formulate a campaign.

Progress, however, seemed slow. It was a very discontented Tyro who,
after luncheon, betook himself to the spray-soaked weather rail and
strove to assuage his impatience by a thoughtful contemplation of the
many leagues of ocean still remaining to be traversed. From this
consideration he was roused by a clear, low-pitched, and extraordinarily
silvery voice at his elbow.

"Aren't you going to speak to me?" it said.

[Illustration: "AREN'T YOU GOING TO SPEAK TO ME?"]

The Tyro whirled. For a moment he thought that his heart had struck work
permanently, so long did it remain inert in his throat. A sense of the
decent formalities of the occasion impelled him to make a hasty catch at
his cap. As he removed it, an impish windgust snatched it away from his
nerveless grasp and presented it to a large and hungry billow, which
straightway swallowed it and retired with a hiss of acknowledgment like
a bowing Jap.

The Tyro paid not the slightest heed to his loss. With his eyes fixed
firmly upon the bewitching face before him,--these apparitions vanish
unless held under determined regard,--he cautiously reached around and
pinched himself. The Vision interpreted his action, and signalized her
appreciation of it by a sort of beatified chuckle.

"Oh, yes; you're awake," she assured him, "and I'm real."

"Wishes _do_ come true," he said with the profoundest conviction.

Up went the Vision's quaintly slanted brows in dainty inquir