you crazy, Ruth?" cried the older lady, aghast. "It's the stowaway
every one is talking about. The one who tried to blow up the ship."

The young lady returned Percival's smile,--rather a diffident, uncertain
effort, to be sure, but still a smile,--and murmured something about
night before last at the Alcazar Grand.

"What are you saying, Ruth? Do you mean to say you met this man at the
Alcazar Grand?"

"Yes, Aunt Julia," said the other wrinkling her pretty forehead in
perplexity. "He--he danced with me."

"He--you danced with him?" gasped the horrified Aunt Julia.

"Don't you remember? Phil Morton introduced him to us. I--I can't
believe my eyes."

"I can't believe mine," snapped the elder woman. "I never saw this
fellow before in my life. The idea! Phil Morton having a friend
like--You are mistaken. And people are staring at us."

"Just the same," said her niece, stubbornly, "I did dance with him, and,
what's more, I danced more than once with him. Didn't I, Mr. Percival?"

Mr. Percival, still beaming, again looked at the sailor appealingly.

"You can tell it to me," said the latter, furtively glancing to the
right and left before making the concession.

Looking straight into the sailor's eyes, Percival said:

"Yes, Miss Clinton. I had four dances with you,--and a lemon squash."

"Wait a moment, Aunt Julia," protested the young lady, holding back.
"Would you mind telling me, Mr. Percival, how you happen to be here and
in this plight? You didn't mention sailing on the Doraine."

Mr. Percival, to the sailor: "Neither did you, Miss Clinton. You
certainly are no more surprised than I am."

"Why are you on board as a stowaway? Phil Morton told me you belong to
an old Baltimore family and had all kinds of--that is, you were quite
well-off."

Mr. Percival, to the sailor: "Please don't blush, Miss Clinton. I'm not
the least bit sensitive. Money isn't everything. I seem to be able
to get along without it. Later on, I hope to have the opportunity to
explain just why--"

"That'll do," interrupted the sailor. "Here comes the Captain."

Captain Trigger hove in sight around the corner of the deck building,
with Chief Engineer Gray and the Second Officer.

"I don't know what to make of you," said Miss Clinton, sorely puzzled.
Her aunt was clutching her arm. "You seemed so awfully jolly the other
night. And--and just look at you now."

She moved away, followed by the bespectacled young woman and the
steamer-ru