ouches turns
to money. That glum-looking young fellow over there is his secretary.
Hinton is his name; curious sort of chap."

Guinevere followed his glance with eager interest. "The solemn one with
the cap pulled over his eyes?" she asked.

The captain nodded. "All the rest are inside playing cards and having a
good time; but he's been moping around like that ever since they got on
board. I've got to go below now, but when I come back, you'll play some
for me, won't you?"

Guinevere protested violently, but something within her whispered that
if the captain was very insistent she would render the selection which
had won her a gold medal at the last commencement.

Slipping into the saloon, she dropped quietly into one of the very
corpulent chairs which steamboats particularly affect, and, unobserved,
proceeded to give herself up to the full enjoyment of the occasion. The
journey from Coreyville to the Cove, in the presence of the
distinguished strangers, had assumed the nature of an adventure. Giving
her imagination free rein, Miss Gusty, without apology, transported the
commonplace group of business men at the card-table into the wildest
realms of romance. The fact that their language, appearance, and manner
spoke of the city, was for her a sufficient peg upon which to hang
innumerable conjectures. So deep was she in her speculations that she
did not hear the captain come up behind her.

"Where have you been hiding?" he asked in stentorian tones. "I was
afraid you'd gotten out on deck and the wind had blown you overboard.
Don't you think it's about time for that little tune? We are forty
minutes late now, and we'll lose another half-hour taking on freight at
Smither's Landing. I've been banking on hearing that little dance-piece
you played for me before."

"I can't play--before them," said Guinevere, nervously.

The captain laughed. "Yes, you can; they'll like it. Mr. Mathews said
something mighty pretty about you when you came on board."

"He didn't--honest?" said Guinevere, blushing. "Oh, truly, Captain, I
can't play!" But even as she spoke she unbuttoned her gloves. Her
accomplishment was clamoring for an exhibition, and though her spirit
failed her, she twirled the piano-stool and took her seat.

The group of men at the table, heretofore indifferent to proceedings,
looked up when a thundering chord broke the stillness. A demure young
girl, with gentle, brown eyes, was making a furious and apparently
unwa