Bobby’s graphic account of his defense of the drunken sailor, together with his own vigorous disavowal of any heroism in the affair, won for him a halo.  After months of tedious anchorage in the dull harbor of seclusion, he found himself once more afloat on a sea of approval, tasting again the sweet savor of adulation, and spreading his sails to catch each passing breath of admiration.

Reclining in his deck-chair, with his arm in a sling and a becoming pallor suffusing his classic features, he became an object of the greatest solicitude to his fellow-passengers.  The fluttering attentions he received warmed him into geniality, and in return he dispensed regal favors.  He allowed Mrs. Weston to consult him concerning her presentation at court the following spring, he let Andy Black arrange his tie, and permitted Elise Weston to cut the leaves of his magazine.  He graciously submitted to endless inquiries concerning his hourly progress, and even went so far as to accept two cream peppermints from the old missionary, who had acquired a new box.

The only drawback to this feast of brotherly love lay in the fact that he could not obtain the tete-a-tete he so earnestly desired with Bobby Boynton.  She was always with him, to be sure, but so was everybody else, especially Mrs. Weston, who had been officially appointed to stand guard over the situation.

The captain had been stung to active measure by a chance remark of Andy Black’s when they were alone at breakfast.

“Accept my condolences,” that youth had lugubriously remarked.  “You have missed the chance of your young life.”

“How’s that?” asked the captain.

“By not getting me for a son-in-law.  Miss Bobby broke the news to me at the dance last night.”

“Did she give you a reason?” asked the captain, arresting his cup in mid-air.

“I didn’t need one.  I’ve been rooming with it ever since we left Honolulu.”

“She didn’t say it was—­”

“Oh, she as good as told me.  Same old chestnut I’ve been handed out all my life.  Said she cared for somebody else, but that she’d never forget me.  I can’t see much satisfaction in occupying a pigeon-hole in a girl’s heart when, another fellow’s got the key to it.”

The captain, was concerned with something far more serious than Andy’s matrimonial failures.

“What makes you think it’s Hascombe?” he asked.

“What makes everybody think so?” asked Andy.  “What makes him think so himself?”

The captain lost no time in finding Mrs. Weston, and laying the case before her.

“He’s got to be headed off,” he said anxiously.  “It ’s getting serious.”

“It certainly looks so after yesterday and last night.  But I can’t for the life of me see why you oppose it.  He’s really a tremendous catch, and it’s no wonder Bobby’s head is turned.  We are all a bit daft over him since he condescended to notice us.”