What was the wager?"
asked the lively Joseph, complacently surveying
his marine millinery, which would have scandalized
a fashionable mermaid.
"Only a trifle," answered Debby, knotting up
her braids with a revengeful jerk.
"It's taken the wind out of your sails, I fancy,
Evan, for you look immensely Byronic with the
starch minus in your collar and your hair in a
poetic toss. Come, I'll try a race with you; and
Miss Wilder will dance all the evening with the
winner. Bless the man, what's he doing down
there? Burying sunfish, hey?"
Frank had been sitting below them on a narrow
strip of sand, absently piling up a little mound
that bore some likeness to a grave. As his
companion spoke, he looked at it, and a sudden flush
of feeling swept across his face, as he replied,--
"No, only a dead hope."
"Deuse take it, yes, a good many of that sort
of craft founder in these waters, as I know to my
sorrow;" and, sighing tragically. Mr. Joe turned
to help Debby from her perch, but she had glided
silently into the sea, and was gone.
Pages:
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144