“Dr. Claudius,” she called again.  He was at her side in a moment.  “Please do not do it again—­even if I am not there.”  She looked at him; he thought it strange.  But he was annoyed at the whole business, and really angry with himself.  She had spoken in a low tone so that the others had not heard her.

“Countess,” said he in a voice decidedly sarcastic, “I pledge myself never in future to ascend to the mast-head of any vessel or vessels without your express permission.”

“Very well,” said she coldly; “I shall keep you to your word.”  But Claudius had seen his mistake, and there was no trace of irony in his voice as he looked her steadfastly in the eyes and answered.

“Believe me, I will keep any promise I make to you,” he said earnestly, and went away.  Lady Victoria, who was not without tact, and had guessed that Margaret had something to say to the Doctor, managed meanwhile to keep her brother occupied by asking him questions about the exploit, and he, falling into the trap, had begun to tell the story from the beginning, speaking loud, by way of showing Claudius his appreciation.  But Claudius, recking little of his laurels, went and sat in his cabin, pondering deeply.  Barker, from a distance, had witnessed the conversation between Margaret and the Doctor.  He came up murmuring to himself that the plot was thickening.  “If Claudius makes a corner in mast-heads, there will be a bull market,” he reflected, and he also remembered that just now he was a bear.  “In that case,” he continued his train of thought, “no more mast-heads.”

“Good morning, Countess; Lady Victoria, good morning,” he said, bowing.  “I would take off my hat if I could, but the Doctor has set the cap of liberty on high.”  Lady Victoria and the Duke laughed, but Margaret said “Good morning” without a smile.  Barker immediately abandoned the subject and talked about the weather, which is a grand topic when there is enough of it.  It was clear by this time that they had passed through a violent storm, which had gone away to southward.  The sea was heavy of course, but the wind had moderated, and by twelve o’clock the yacht was running between nine and ten knots, with a stiff breeze on her quarter and all sails set.

The Duke was extremely attentive to Margaret all that day, rarely leaving her side, whether she was below or on deck; bringing her books and rugs, and adjusting her chair, and altogether performing the offices of a faithful slave and attendant.  Whenever Claudius came within hail the Duke would make desperate efforts to be animated, lengthening his sentences with all the vigorous superlatives and sledge-hammer adverbs he could think of, not to mention any number of “you knows.”  His efforts to be agreeable, especially when there appeared to be any likelihood of Claudius coming into the conversation, were so palpable that Margaret could not but see there was a reason for the expenditure of so much energy.  She could