mes was strict and stern.

And now La Juanita had set her small foot down with a passionate stamp
before Grandpere Colomes' very face, and tossed her black curls about
her wilful head, and said she would go to the pier this evening to meet
her Mercer. All Mandeville knew this, and cast its furtive glances
alternately at La Juanita with two big pink spots in her cheeks, and at
the entrance to the pier, expecting Grandpere Colomes and a scene.

The sun cast red glows and violet shadows over the pier, and the pines
murmured a soft little vesper hymn among themselves up on the beach, as
the "New Camelia" swung herself in, crabby, sidewise, like a fat old
gentleman going into a small door. There was the clang of an important
bell, the scream of a hoarse little whistle, and Mandeville rushed to
the gang-plank to welcome the outside world. Juanita put her hand
through a waiting arm, and tripped away with her Mercer, big and blond
and brawny. "Un Americain, pah!" said the little mother of the black
eyes. And Mandeville sighed sadly, and shook its head, and was sorry
for Grandpere Colomes.

This was Saturday, and the big regatta would be Monday. Ah, that
regatta, such a one as Mandeville had never seen! There were to be
boats from Madisonville and Amite, from Lewisburg and Covington, and
even far-away Nott's Point. There was to be a Class A and Class B and
Class C, and the little French girls of the town flaunted their ribbons
down the one oak-shaded, lake-kissed street, and dared anyone to say
theirs were not the favourite colours.

In Class A was entered, "La Juanita,' captain Mercer Grangeman, colours
pink and gold." Her name, her colours; what impudence!

Of course, not being a Mandevillian, you could not understand the shame
of Grandpere Colomes at this. Was it not bad enough for his petite
Juanita, his Spanish blossom, his hope of a family that had held itself
proudly aloof from "dose Americain" from time immemorial, to have
smiled upon this Mercer, this pale-eyed youth? Was it not bad enough
for her to demean herself by walking upon the pier with him? But for a
boat, his boat, "un bateau Americain," to be named La Juanita! Oh, the
shame of it! Grandpere Colomes prayed a devout prayer to the Virgin
that "La Juanita" should be capsized.

Monday came, clear and blue and stifling. The waves of hot air danced
on the sands and adown the one street merrily. Glassily calm lay the
Pontchartrain, heavily still