we
please, and we live as we please. We drop all connection with society
and its conventions. We even drop the names by which society knows us. I
am known as the 'Lady Who Sits on the Sand,' commonly condensed to the
'Sand Lady.' My brother, who spends most of his time in his boat, is the
'Middle-Aged Man of the Sea,' and his scientific friend is the 'Shell
Man.' When we have stayed on the Tangent as long as the weather and our
pleasure induce us, we return to our ordinary routine of life. Now, if
you have any title which is characteristic of you, I shall be glad to
hear it, as well as that of your companion. We consider ourselves
capable of forming unbiased opinions in regard to what is generally
known as respectability."

It struck me as a very satisfactory thing to look upon this pleasant
lady solely and simply as a human being. It is so seldom that we meet
any one who can be looked upon in that light.

"Madam," I said, "I greatly like your plan for putting yourselves out of
the world for a time, but I find it difficult properly to designate
myself."

"Oh, anything will do," she said; "for instance, your reason for
desiring to seclude yourself."

"Very well, then," said I, "you may call me a 'Lover in Check.'"

"Excellent!" she exclaimed,--"just the sort of person for this place;
and what is the other one?"

"Oh, he is an Understudy," I replied.

"Delightful," she said; "I never saw one. And here come my brother and
the Shell Man."

I was now introduced formally by my new title to the Middle-Aged Man of
the Sea, a hearty personage, with a curling beard, and to the Shell Man,
who was tall, and wore spectacles.

When my presence was explained, the brother was as cordial as the lady
had been, and proffered any assistance which I might need during my
sojourn on the island. When they took their leave, the Sand Lady urged
me to inhabit her island as long as I pleased, and hoped that I and the
Understudy would sometimes sail over to them, and see what it was to be
on a Tangent. At this I shook my head, and they all laughed at me; but
it was easy to see that they were people of very friendly dispositions.

When I reported my interview to Walkirk, he remarked, "It is impossible
to get away from people, but in all probability these folks will not
come here again."

"Perhaps not," I answered, and dropped the subject.

XXIV.

THE INTERPOLATION.

"They did not seem in the least surprised to find us here