“Why I—­an American, of course!  Great Scott!  I—­I certainly did, didn’t I?” he exclaimed, aghast, gradually comprehending that she had a moral claim, at least.

“That is the question,” she said simply.

He walked over and sat down rather heavily on one of the stone blocks.

“I saw it from the sea,” he stammered.

“And so did I.”

For some moments he sat gazing at the flag, actual distress in his eyes.  She looked away and smiled faintly.

“I didn’t think, Tennys; truly I did not.  You have as much right to claim the discovery as I. Why have you not spoken of this before?”

“You seemed so happy over the flag that I couldn’t, Hugh,” she said, still looking away.

“Poor old flag!  It’s the first time you ever tried to wave dishonestly or where there was a doubt of your supremacy.”  He came to her side.  “We’ll have no flag raising.”

“What!” she cried, strangely disappointed.

“Not until we have made a British flag to wave beside this one.”

“I was jesting, Hugh, just to see what you would say.  The flag shall go up.  You—­you are the master, as you should be, Hugh.”

“You have as much right as I,” he protested.

“Then I’ll be an American,” she cried.  “We’ll raise our flag.”

“But you are not an American.”

“Granting that I was the first to see the island, was I not under protection of an American?  I have been under American protection ever since.  What has Great Britain to do with the situation?  I demand the protection of the Stars and Stripes.  Will you deny me?” Her eyes were sparkling eagerly.  “Could the British have landed had it not been for the American?”

“You really don’t care?”

“This is our flag, Hugh,” she said seriously.  “It will make me unhappy if you continue to take my jest as an earnest.  We made it and I shall be proud to have it wave over me.”

A few hours later the Stars and Stripes floated high over a new island of the sea, far from the land of its birth.

“How good and grand it looks,” she cried as they saw it straighten to the breeze.  “After all, it may be waving over its own, Hugh.  The United States bought several thousands of islands in this section of the world, I’ve heard,” she added, with a touch of irony.

“It’s the flag I love,” he cried.  “May God let me kiss once more the soil she calls home.  Dear America!”

From that day he never looked at the dancing, wriggling stripes without a surge of emotion.  Its every flaunt seemed to beckon brave worshippers from far across the sea to the forlorn island on which it was patiently waving.