Before taking them he removed his gloves
and displayed a pair of chapped and horny hands.

"Why--poor Fred!" cried Jacqueline, who remarked them in a moment, "what
kind of almond paste do you use?"

Much annoyed, he replied, curtly: "We all have to row, we have also
to attend to the machinery. But that is only while we are cadets. Of
course, such apprenticeship is very hard. After that we shall get our
stripes and be ordered on foreign service, and expect promotion."

"And glory," said Giselle, who found courage to speak.

Fred thanked her with a look of gratitude. She, at least, understood his
profession. She entered into his feelings far better than Jacqueline,
who had been his first confidante--Jacqueline, to whom he had confided
his purposes, his ambition, and his day-dreams. He thought Jacqueline
was selfish. She seemed to care only for herself. And yet, selfish or
not selfish, she pleased him better than all the other girls he knew--a
thousand times more than gentle, sweet Giselle.

"Ah, glory, of course!" repeated Jacqueline. "I understand how much that
counts, but there is glory of various kinds, and I know the kind that I
prefer," she added in a tone which seemed to imply that it was not that
of arms, or of perilous navigation. "We all know," she went on, "that
not every man can have genius, but any sailor who has good luck can get
to be an admiral."

"Let us hope you will be one soon, Monsieur Fred," said Dolly. "You
will have well deserved it, according to the way you have distinguished
yourself on board the 'Borda.'"

This induced Fred to let them understand something of life on board the
practice-ship; he told how the masters who resided on shore ascended by
a ladder to the gun-deck, which had been turned into a schoolroom; how
six cadets occupied the space intended for each gun-carriage, where
hammocks hung from hooks served them instead of beds; how the chapel was
in a closet opened only on Sundays. He described the gymnastic feats in
the rigging, the practice in gunnery, and many other things which, had
they been well described, would have been interesting; but Fred was
only a poor narrator. The conclusion the young ladies seemed to reach
unanimously after hearing his descriptions, was discouraging. They cried
almost with one voice--

"Think of any woman being willing to marry a sailor."

"Why not?" asked Giselle, very promptly.

"Because, what's the use of a husband who is always out of your