Desk and Debit Part 21

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE SAIL ON THE LAKE. Page 171.]

This boating excursion had been planned by Waterford and our junior partner, but of course it was not possible that the former knew the purposes of the latter; at least, such was my view of the matter at first, though I afterwards had occasion to change my mind. I was satisfied now, if I had not been before, that Mr. Whippleton meant to leave Chicago forever. He had done all the mischief in his power there, and to remain any longer would result in a mortifying exposure. Like other smart rogues, he had gathered together all he could, and was going to some distant locality to enjoy it.

Miss Collingsby had seated herself in the stern sheets of the boat, and was watching the waters that rippled under the counter. I thought she was not very well satisfied with herself for what she had done, and rather wished herself on sh.o.r.e again. If she knew her prudent and dignified father's opinion of Mr. Waterford, it would not have been strange that she was dissatisfied with herself.

"This is a magnificent day for a sail," said Mr. Waterford, gayly, as he glanced at his fair companion.

"Elegant," replied she, but in a tone which indicated that she was not in the full enjoyment of the sail or the day.

"Would you like to take the helm and steer, Miss Collingsby?"

"No, I thank you; not now."

"You enjoyed it so much when we sailed last time, that I thought you were cut out for a sailor."

"Half the pleasure of sailing is the company you have with you," added Marian.

"And you think you are losing one half of the pleasure of the present occasion?" said Mr. Waterford.

"I did not say that, but I did expect a lively party, as you told me you had invited half a dozen ladies and gentlemen."

"I did; and they all promised to come if it was possible," pleaded the skipper. "I am very sorry they did not, and that you are so much dissatisfied with your present company."

"Why, no, Mr. Waterford; I did not say that, and did not mean it,"

interposed Marian. "I only say that half the fun on the water is having a good lively party. You know what a nice time we had singing and chatting the last time we went."

"We had a pleasant time. I thought, from what you said, that you considered your present company rather disagreeable, and the excursion a failure."

"You know I did not mean any such thing as that, Mr. Waterford," said Marian, reproachfully. "You are very kind to invite me at all, and it is very ungrateful for me to say anything; but I do like a lively party."

"I am afraid it is only a selfish thing on my part," added the skipper, as he bestowed upon his beautiful companion a look of admiration, beneath which she blushed even as she gazed into the clear waters of the lake. "Phil," called he, turning to me.

"Here," I replied, springing up from my reclining posture on the forward deck.

"I wish you would hoist the new burgee. We ought to wear our gayest colors to-day."

"Where is it?"

"In the cabin after locker, starboard side. Run it up, if you please."

I went into the cabin, and found the flag. It was a gay affair, in bright colors, with the new name of the yacht inscribed upon it. I attached it to the halyards, and ran it up to the mast-head. Miss Collingsby took no notice of it, but continued to gaze into the water.

"What do you think of my new burgee, Miss Collingsby?" asked the skipper.

"It is very pretty indeed," she replied, with more indifference than it seemed quite polite to display. "It is as gay as the rest of the boat.

You are fond of bright colors, Mr. Waterford."

"In a boat, I am. Do you see the name which is upon it?"

"Marian!" exclaimed she, after spelling out the name upon the flag.

"What does that mean?"

"It is the name of the boat."

"Why, the last time I sailed in her, she was called the Michigan."

"That is very true, but she is called the Marian now," replied Mr.

Waterford, trying to look very amiable and modest.

"That's my name."

"Certainly; and that's the reason why I gave it to my boat."

"Indeed, you do me a very great honor, and I am grateful to you for it."

"No; the honor is done to me, if you don't object to the name."

"Of course I cannot object to my own name."

"You may object to having it upon my boat."

"It is a very beautiful boat, and I am sorry you did not give it a better name."

"There is no better or prettier name in the whole world."

"I don't think so."

"I do," answered Mr. Waterford, with emphasis. "I was sick of the old name--the Michigan."

"Probably you will soon be sick of the new one--the Marian," added Miss Collingsby, still gazing into the water.

"Never!" protested the gallant skipper.

"I am afraid you will, as you were of the old one."

"Never, Miss Collingsby! Of course the name itself is but a word, but the a.s.sociation will cause me to cherish it forever."

"How very fine you talk, Mr. Waterford!"

"But I say just what I mean, and utter only what is nearest to my heart."

"It is a pity you were not a lawyer, for you always make out a very good case."

"I am afraid I should only succeed as a lawyer when I was interested in my client, as in the present instance."

"How long will it be before we overtake Mr. Whippleton?" asked Miss Collingsby, as though she deemed it prudent to change the conversation, which I thought was becoming just a little silly, as such talk always is to all but those who are immediately interested.

"That will depend upon which boat sails the fastest."