em there was always the undertone of present pleasure
and anticipated joys. One thin little thing, who had mentioned a
ribbon-counter, looked up with something akin to awe at a broad-faced
and pimply youth, who spoke hungrily of a potential feast of Frankfurter
sausages. I have no doubt that to her he represented some sort of Prince
Charming. Close to her a buxom maiden addressed a timid-looking giant,
all arms and legs, and described the bliss of shooting the chutes. It
was evident that he aspired to the dignity and emoluments of a gay
suitor, but was woefully new or incompetent at the game. She was helping
him to the best of her ability, with a perseverance and courage
entitling her to my respect. In her companion she must have discerned
the makings of a possible husband or, at least, the opportunity to
practise a talent of fascination she thinks ought not to lie fallow.

"And how is Baby Paul enjoying himself?" I asked my companion.

"For the time being, he is asleep," she answered, "and so, I suppose, is
having an excellent time. He's an exceedingly intelligent child and of
the happiest disposition. I'm sure he is aware that he has a mother to
love him, and that's enough to keep him contented."

"Of course," I assented. "That somewhere there is a good woman to love
him is all that a baby or a grown man needs to know in order to enjoy
perfect bliss. Those who are fortunate enough to reach such a
consummation are the elect of the world."

She looked at me with a smile, and I saw a question hanging on her lips.
It was probably one I had heard very often. Frieda and some others, when
hard put to it for a subject of conversation, are apt to ask me why I
don't get married. I tell them that the only proof of the pudding is the
eating and that, strangely enough, all the good wives I know are already
wedded. Moreover, I know that very few women would deign to look with
favor upon me. I have always deemed myself a predestined bachelor, a
lover of other people's children and a most timid venturer among
spinsters.

Frances, however, permitted the question to go unasked, which showed
much cleverness on her part. She recognized the obviousness of the
situation. As we went on, she gazed with admiration upon the yachts,
many of which were lying becalmed, but picturesque. The big tramps at
anchor awakened in her the wonder we all feel at the idea of sailing for
faraway shores where grow strange men and exotic fruits. Then, when