Somehow that gracious little smile had made Chester’s heart flutter for an instant.  As he realized it, he said to himself, “What’s the matter with me?  Am I getting foolish?  It was, certainly a sweet smile, and the thanks were gracious, too; but what of it?” The first courses were being served.  She was sitting opposite him, just a few feet away.  He might take a good look at the girl to see if there was anything uncommon about her.  He looked down the table, glancing just for an instant opposite.  No; there was nothing striking, or to be disturbed about.  The girl was still solicitous over her companion, meanwhile eating a little herself.  “I musn’t be rude, thought Chester, and then looked again across the table.  The man was past middle age.  His face was clean shaven, and he was dressed in the garb of a minister.  He was a preacher, then.  The girl had evidently suffered much from sea-sickness, because her face was pale and somewhat pinched, though there was a tinge of red in her cheeks.  That’s a pretty chin, and a lovely mouth—­and, well, now, what is the matter!  Chester Lawrence, attend to your chicken.”

The minister and his daughter did not remain for the dessert.  As they arose, he said: 

“Now, that’s pretty good for the first time, isn’t it?”

“Yes, father, it is,” she replied.  “You’re getting on famously.  Shall we try the deck for a while?”

“Yes; it will do us both good to get into the air.  Run along into your room for a wrap.”

Chester was tempted to leave his dinner to help them again; but he resisted the temptation.  They walked quite firmly now, and as they entered the passageway, the girl glancing back into the room, met Chester’s eyes and smiled once more.  Again Chester’s heart fluttered.  It would have been a cold, hardened heart indeed not to have responded to such an appeal.

CHAPTER III.

On the morning of the fourth day out, Chester Lawrence stood watching the antics of a young man, who, coatless and hatless, and made brave by too many visits to the bar, was running up the rope ladders of the mast to a dangerous height.  He climbed up to where the ladder met the one on the other side, down which he scrambled with the agility of a monkey.  The ladies in the group on deck gasped in fright at his reckless daring.  The fellow jumped to the deck from the rail, and made a sweeping bow to the spectators: 

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he said, “’tis nothing at all, I assure you.  On shore I am a circus performer, an’ I was just practicing a little.  Have no fear.  See—­”

He was about to make a second exhibition when a ship’s officer seized him, threatening to lock him up if he did not desist.