h!"

"Why, he _is_ good-looking."

"Princes, dukes, waiters, cabbies, stewards; all you do is look at
them, and they become slaves. You've more mischief in you than a dozen
kittens."

"I have met cabbies whom I much prefer to certain dukes."

"But I've a young man picked out for you. He's an artist."

"Good night!" murmured Kitty. "If there is one kind of person in the
world dad considers wholly useless and incompetent, it's an artist or a
poet."

"But this artist makes fifteen thousand and sometimes twenty thousand
the year."

"Then he's no artist. What is his name?"

"Forbes, J. Mortimer Forbes."

"Oh. The pretty-cover man."

"My dear, he is one of the nicest young men in New York. His family is
one of the best, and he goes everywhere. And but for his
kindness. . . ."

"What?"

"Some day I'll tell you the story. Here we go! Good-by, England!"

"Good-by, sapphires!" said Kitty, so low that the other did not hear
her.

At dinner Thomas was called to account by the chief steward for
permitting his thumb to connect with the soup. But what would you,
with Titian and Greuse smiling a soft "Thank you!" for everything you
did for them?

* * * * * *

"Night, daddy."

"Good night, Kittibudget."

Crawford smiled after the blithe, buoyant figure as it swung
confidently down the deck.

"I don't know what I'm going to do," mused Killigrew, looking across
the rail at the careening stars.

"What about?"

"That child. I can't harness her."

"Somebody's bound to"--prophetically.

"It's got to be a whole man, or he'll wish he'd never been born. She's
had her way so long that she's spoiled."

"Not a bit of it."

"Yes, she is. I told her not to wear those sapphires that night. And,
by the way, I've been hoping they'd turn up like that ruby of yours.
How do you account for that?"

The coal of Crawford's cigar waxed and waned and the ash lengthened.

"I've no doubt that you've been mighty curious since that morning.
Perhaps you read the tale in the newspapers. I know of only one man
who would return the Nana Sahib's ruby. Sentiment; for I believe the
poor devil was really fond of me. A valet. With me for ten years. He
was really my comrade; always my right-hand on my exploration trips;
back-boned, fearless, reliable in a pinch, and a scholar in a way;
though I can't imagine how and where he picked up his learning. He
saved my life at least twice by his quic