ng man laid down his oars.

"You take this _au grand serieux_, I see, Miss Montfort, like my good
cousins themselves. I confess I never can attain their perennial
youthfulness, try how I will. I feel a Methuselah, I give you my word I
do. Oh! very, very, very!"

"I don't understand you," said Margaret, simply. "We are here to take
the time, as the boats pass the line. There is no other object in our
being here."

"No other? Alas! poor Claud!" sighed Mr. Belleville. "Now, to me, Miss
Montfort, the sailing of toy boats is the smallest possible factor in
this afternoon's pleasure. It is not, believe me, the childish sport
that I shall remember when I am far away."

"Oh!" said Margaret, vaguely, her eyes on the white boat.

"You do not ask what it is that I shall carry with me across the ocean?"
Claud's voice dropped to its favorite smooth half-tone, what he was fond
of describing to his friends as "_ma mi-voix caressante_."

"There is a glamour, Miss Montfort, a magic, that does not always put
itself into words. The perfect day, the perfect vision, will dwell with
me--"

"Oh, look!" cried Margaret, starting forward, eagerly, "they are giving
the signal. Gerald repeats it. Oh, they are off! Look, look, Mr.
Belleville! What a pretty sight."

It was, indeed, a pretty sight. The fairy fleet started in line, their
white and brown sails taking the breeze gallantly, their prows (where
they had prows) dancing over the dancing ripples. One or two proved
unruly, turning round and round, and in one case finally turning bottom
side up, with hardly a struggle. But most of the little vessels kept
fairly well within the course, heading, more or less, for the shore.

Margaret was enchanted.

"How wonderfully they keep together!" she said. "Oh! but now they begin
to separate. Look, there is a poor little one wobbling off all by
itself. I wonder--I am afraid it is Peggy's. Yes, I am sure it is. Poor
Peggy! Oh! the first three are going much faster than the rest. I wonder
whose they are. How prettily they sail! Did you ever see anything
prettier?"

"I see something infinitely prettier," said Mr. Belleville, fixing his
eyes on his companion. But Margaret, wholly unconscious of his
languishing gaze, was watching the race with an intensity of eagerness
that left no room for any other impressions.

The three forward boats came on swiftly, their prows dipping lightly,
their paper sails spread full to the breeze. Shouts came ringing