“You didn’t keep me—­that is, waiting—­at all,” he answered dreamily; “and I’ll be here at half-past four, sharp, to-morrow.  You may depend on me.”

“Very well,” she said contentedly, as she settled herself among the cushions, which in her absence he had arranged for her greater comfort, adding, “What a very nice boat you have!  I don’t see how you keep it so neat and fresh, taking so many people across, and being out, as I suppose you must be, in all sorts of weather.”

“It’s a new boat,” he said hurriedly, “and you’re my first passenger.  Would you mind telling me your name?—­your first name I mean, of course?”—­for the horrible idea occurred to him that she might think he was anxious about his fare.  “I haven’t named her yet, and I thought, perhaps, as you’re my first fare, you’d let me name her after you,—­for luck, you know.”

“Is that considered lucky?” she asked innocently, “If it is, of course you may.  My name is Rosamond; but it seems to me that’s rather long for a boat.  Suppose you call her the Rose.  Papa—­my father, I mean—­used to call me that oftener than Rosamond, and—­one or two other people do yet.”

“I don’t think Rosamond would be too long,” he said thoughtfully, “but it shall be as you wish, of course.  I will have ‘Rose’ painted on the stern, and I can call her Rosamond to myself.  May I have one of your roses, just to—­to remember it by, till I can see the painter?”

“Why, yes, I suppose so.”  And she unfastened one of the two at her throat, and handed it to him.

He placed it carefully in his pocket-book, which, as she observed with some surprise, was of the finest Russia leather.  Ferrying must be profitable work, to provide the ferryman with such boats and pocket-books.

There was a brief silence, and then she said, “You were singing as I came down the bank.  Would you mind singing again?  It sounds so pretty on the water.”

He made no answer in words, but presently his voice arose, softly at first, and then with passionate fervor, and this time his song was, “Oh, wert thou in the cauld blast!”

“Thank you; that was beautiful,” said Rosamond calmly, as he finished and the boat grazed the bank at one and the same moment.  “What a good voice you have!  And you must have taken lessons, to sing so correctly:  haven’t you?”

“Yes,—­a few,” he answered, springing from the boat and drawing it up on the bank.  She rose to follow him, but stopped short, with a little exclamation of dismay.

“Why, this isn’t where we ought to have landed!” she exclaimed.  “It’s a place a mile farther down the river.”

He looked very much confused.

“I have made some stupid blunder,” he stammered.  “I owe you a thousand apologies, but I was singing, and I suppose I passed the landing without noticing it.  I will not keep you long, though.  I can row back in ten minutes.”

“I oughtn’t to have asked you to sing when you were rowing,” she said remorsefully.  “I’m so sorry you should have all that extra work.”