her an
easy and enrapt convert to the little Englishman's creed, and for
himself tasted the intense delight of revealing to another an
appreciation of a literature hitherto ignored.

"Isn't he strong!" cried Travis. "Just a LITTLE better than Marie
Corelli and the Duchess!"

"And to think of having all those stories to read! You haven't read any
of them yet?"

"Not a one. I've been reading only the novels we take up in the
Wednesday class."

"Lord!" muttered Condy.

Condy's spirits had been steadily rising since the incident aboard the
whaleback. The exhilaration of the water-front, his delight over the
story he was to make out of the old mate's yarn, Chinatown, the
charming unconventionality of their lunch in the Chinese restaurant,
the sparkling serenity of the afternoon, and the joy of discovering
Travis' appreciation of his adored and venerated author, had put him
into a mood bordering close upon hilarity.

"The next event upon our interesting programme," he announced, "will be
a banjosephine obligato in A-sia minor, by that justly renowned
impresario, Signor Conde Tin-pani Rivers, specially engaged for this
performance; with a pleasing and pan-hellenic song-and-dance turn by
Miss Travis Bessemer, the infant phenomenon, otherwise known as 'Babby
Bessie.'"

"You're not going to play that banjo here?" said Travis, as he stripped
away the canvas covering.

"Order in the gallery!" cried Condy, beginning to tune up. Then in a
rapid, professional monotone: "Ladies-and-gentlemen - with - your -
kind - permission - I - will - endeavor - to - give - you - an -
imitation - of - a - Carolina - coon - song"--and without more ado,
singing the words to a rattling, catchy accompaniment, swung off into--

"F--or MY gal's a high-born leddy,
SHE'S brack, but not too shady."

He did not sing loud, and the clack and snarl of the banjo carried
hardly further than the adjoining room; but there was no one to hear,
and, as he went along, even Travis began to hum the words, but at that,
Condy stopped abruptly, laid the instrument across his knees with
exaggerated solicitude, and said deliberately:

"Travis, you are a good, sweet girl, and what you lack in beauty you
make up in amiability, and I've no doubt you are kind to your aged
father; but you--can--not--sing."

Travis was cross in a moment, all the more so because Condy had spoken
the exact truth. It was quite impossible for her to carry a tune half