“After all, I am sorry I humored Leo’s whim, and persuaded papa to bring us here.”

“Why, my dear?  We are enjoying it immensely,” said her father.

“Because Syracuse has proved my ‘crumpled rose leaf’, by destroying the prestige of the ‘Cleopatra’.  Hitherto, I deemed our yacht quite the most complete and gorgeous floating palace since the days of its highly improper namesake’s marauding sails on the Cydnus.”

“And so she is; there is nothing afloat comparable to her in speed, appointments, comfort and beauty,” interrupted Mr. Cutting,

“Poor papa!  How he bristles at the bare suggestion of rivalry.  Be comforted, sir, in the knowledge that at least we shall not be run down by a phantom cruiser.  It is very humiliating to American pride--after winning the international prizes, and boasting so inordinately, to find out that we are only about—­how many centuries, Leo?—­twenty-five centuries behind Syracuse in building pleasure crafts.  Think of a superb cabin with staterooms containing beds (not bunks) for one hundred and twenty guests, and the floors all covered with agates and other precious stones, that formed a mosaic copy of the Iliad!  If you wished to emphasize a discussion on connubial devotion, behold! there on your right, Andromache and Hector; if one’s husband objected to a harmless flirtation, lo! on the left, Agamemnon and Briseis; and to point the moral of ’pretty is, as pretty does’—­how very convenient to indicate with the tip of your satin slipper, the demure figure of Helen standing on the walls, to watch the duel between Menelaus and Paris!  Fancy the consolation a person of my indolent Sacculina temperament might have derived from the untimely fate of Cassandra, oppressed with knowledge in advance of her day and generation!  There was the gymnasium for the beaux; and for the belles bona fide gardens, with walks and arbors covered with ivy and flowering vines whose roots rested in great stone vessels filled with earth.  Imagine the boudoir and bathrooms paved with precious stones, encrusted with carved ivory and statues—­”

“Pooh!  Alma.  That rigmarole is not in the guide books.  Come, Dixon is waving his handkerchief down there, as a signal that luncheon is ready.”

“I prefer to wait here.  Alma, bring me some anemones, and a sprig of ivy from the circular garden, when you come back,” said Leo.

Doctor Douglass drew closer, and asked: 

“Will you let me stay also, and enjoy with you the wonderful charm of this opalescent air, this beautiful cincturing sea?”

“I would rather be alone.  Solitude is a luxury rarely allowed on a yacht cruise; and I want a few quiet moments.  By day, poor Aunt Patty has so much to tell me; at night, Alma is a chattering owl.”