e rushing crowds still arriving. By the time they had pushed their way
to the upper deck, the gang-plank was in, the band was striking up a gay
march, and with a lurch and a turn the _Island Princess_ was off.

"O-oh!" murmured Rosie happily, and Janet demanded tensely, of no one in
particular: "Isn't this just grand!"

Mothers and wives bustled about to get folding chairs and campstools,
but the young folk, scorning so soon to sit down, promenaded arm in arm.
Tucking Rosie's hand under his elbow, George joined the ranks of the
promenaders, and Janet and Tom Sullivan followed his lead at a
respectful distance.

At the stern, seated off by themselves, was a group of picnickers who
hailed George as an old friend and waved at him inviting arms and
handkerchiefs.

"Let's go over and say 'Howdy,'" George suggested.

There were some ten of them, girls and young fellows about George's own
age. George took off his hat to them all and, with a flourish, presented
Rosie.

"Ladies and gentlemen, allow me to introduce to you my lady friend, Miss
Rosie O'Brien. Rosie, won't you shake hands with my friend, Mr.
Callahan, and Miss Higgins, and Miss McCarthy, and Miss Mahony, ..."

Rosie, feeling eighteen years old and perfectly beautiful, went the
rounds to an enchanting chorus of, "Pleased to know you, Miss O'Brien,"
"You sweet little thing!" "Excuse me, Miss Rosie, but I must say George
Riley knows how to pick out a pretty girl!..."

George then presented Janet, and Janet, too, went the rounds, looking
like a sleep-walker with tight-set muscles and staring eyes.

"And this," concluded George, giving Tom Sullivan a little push, "is
Matt Sullivan's boy. You fellows all know Matt--he's on the East End
run."

With blinking eyes and a crimson embarrassment that mounted to ears and
scalp, Tom passed about a nerveless, sodden hand.

After a few more pleasantries, George, gathering together his forces,
flourished his hat and said: "Well, so long, friends! See you later."

"Weren't they nice!" Rosie remarked enthusiastically, and Janet, in
humble gratitude, said: "That was awful kind of you, Mr. Riley,
introducing Tom and me."

"Kind nuthin'!" George declared. "Aren't you my friends, I'd like to
know? Aren't all Rosie's friends my friends?"

Unable to express in words how deeply moved she was by the loftiness and
nobility of this sentiment, Janet could only look at Rosie, sigh
gloomily, and shake her head.

They ate their li