ave in Venice, have I seen such a gorgeous array of color in a
landscape.

Five hours we had in St. Thomas while the Diana put off hundreds of
barrels of cement; but what with the gayly painted boats and their
dark-skinned crews, the naked brown boys diving and swimming for
pennies and dimes in the harbor, a walk to Bluebeard's Tower and
Blackbeard's Castle, we were well amused. Particularly so was
Dorothea, who disappeared from my side for a half-hour while I chatted
with the captain, rejoining me in the tiny palm-bordered park near the
landing.

She was glowing with happiness.

"What do you think, Charlotte?" she exclaimed. "I have a letter from
Duke. Not written after we sailed, of course, for it couldn't have
reached me. He bearded mother in her fortress the morning we left
Washington. She was out, or said she was, but sent a note saying that
I had gone on a journey and would be absent for a month. He went
directly to the Winthrops for news and they told him I was with you
and that if he wrote at once by special delivery he could reach the
ship before it left New York dock. He sent the letter to the captain
and asked him to give it to me at St. Thomas for a surprise. The
captain is such a nice man, though a good deal of a tease! Mr.
Winthrop was delighted to hear you were not alone. Poor Miss Winthrop
has influenza and they both wish they had taken this trip. It seems
they are thinking of it just a little."

"The Winthrops coming on this voyage," I exclaimed. "Impossible! They
hadn't an idea of it."

"Mightn't he want to interview the governor and look at the island?"

"He hasn't time. I chose this journey instead of another so that I
could interview the governor and look at the islands myself."

"Well, I dare say there's nothing in it. Duke didn't speak of it as
anything settled, and he may have misunderstood, his mind being on me.
May I read you the letter--I mean parts of it?"

"I shouldn't expect to hear all of it," I replied dryly.

"Yet the bits I leave out are the ones that show him as he is," she
said, looking off into the grove of palms. "Duke is so conscientious
that until we succeed in melting mother--that would be a good title
for a story, 'Melting Mother'!--and until she sanctions an engagement
he won't let himself go, even on paper. So I get only a lovely sort of
'seepage' that breaks through in spite of him!"

"Skip the seepage," I said unsympathetically, "and give the news."

She re-rea