The gentleman seemed pausing for permission
to approach, with much the appearance of a sagacious
Newfoundland, wistful and wet.
"Oh, I'm very glad it's you, Sir!" was Debby's
cordial greeting, as she shook a drop off the end of
her nose, and nodded, smiling.
The new-comer immediately beamed upon her
like an amiable Triton, saying, as they turned
shoreward,--
"Our first interview opened with a laugh on my
side, and our second with one on yours. I accept
the fact as a good omen. Your friend seemed in
trouble; allow me to atone for my past misdemeanors
by offering my services now. But first let me introduce
myself; and as I believe in the fitness of things, let
me present you with an appropriate card"; and, stooping,
the young man wrote "Frank Evan" on the hard sand at
Debby's feet.
The girl liked his manner, and, entering into the
spirit of the thing, swept as grand a curtsy as her
limited drapery would allow saying, merrily,-
-
"I am Debby Wilder, or Dora, as aunt prefers
to call me; and instead of laughing, I ought to be
four feet under water, looking for something we
have lost; but I can't dive, and my distress is
dreadful, as you see.
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