d.

_Chapter XI_

_The Gala_

The Thorhaven season had passed its height, and that August month,
towards which all the efforts of the lodging-house keepers and
tradespeople converged during the year, was nearly at an end, while on
every fence and wall employed for bill sticking could be read in large
letters: "A Great Gala Night will take place on Thursday, August the
twenty-ninth. Splendid Illuminations. Continental Attractions.
Dancing on the Green from eight to ten-thirty."

The term Continental Attractions was the inspiration of Mr. Graham, who
had recently visited the South of France on account of his wife's
health--at least he gave that as his reason, though Mrs. Graham told
all her friends confidentially that she would never have incurred so
much trouble and expense if her husband had not shown symptoms of
incipient bronchitis--and she equally believed herself to be speaking
the truth. Anyway, there it was; and from the visit to Cannes resulted
this idea of imparting a _joie de vivre_ to the Thorhaven Gala by means
of paper streamers and air balloons. There had been some consideration
of squeakers and false noses; but one or two members of the Promenade
Sub-Committee raised the reasonable objection that the squeakers would
interfere with the band, while the false noses---- Well, there was
something indefinably loose about false noses which they could feel but
could not describe in words. At any rate, they were not going to allow
such things on their promenade.

There was a good deal of talk concerning the Gala in the town; so that
those inhabitants who were familiar with illustrated magazines and the
lighter drama--and also possessed a sanguine temperament--no doubt went
about picturing to themselves a still night with coloured lanterns
hanging motionless against a deep blue sky, while a crowd of exuberant
visitors disported themselves in pale garments and unusual attitudes
for the amusement of the Thorhaven people.

But the clerk of the weather was not going to have anything so
incongruous as all that, and the 29th rose cold and grey--one of those
summer days which are a premonition of autumn. A strongish wind blew
from the west; leaves came whirling down on the road leading to the
promenade, and the sky was grey-black with clouds scudding across;
while beneath it, a rising sea showed a line of white breakers in the
gloom--like the cruel teeth of a monster seeking something to devour.

Sti