“That would be quite unnecessary,” said the girl, again with a slight laugh and heightened color.

“If any of your friends need cards of invitation, won’t you let me know, so that I may send them to you?”

“I’m sure I shan’t need any, but if I do, I promise to remember your kindness, and apply.”

“It will be a pleasure for me to serve you.  With whom shall you come?  I should like to know the name, in case I should miss you in the crowd.”

“I expect to be with Captain Kempt, of the United States Navy.”

“Ah,” said the Lieutenant, with a note of disappointment in his voice which he had not the diplomacy to conceal.  His hold of her hand relaxed, and she took the opportunity to withdraw it.

“What sort of a man is Captain Kempt?  I shall be on the lookout for him, you know.”

“I think he is the handsomest man I have ever seen, and I know he is the kindest and most courteous.”

“Really?  A young man, I take it?”

“There speaks the conceit of youth,” said Dorothy, smiling.  “Captain Kempt, U.S.N., retired.  His youngest daughter is just two years older than myself.”

“Oh, yes, Captain Kempt.  I—­ I remember him now.  He was at the dinner last night, and sat beside our captain.  What a splendid story-teller he is!” cried the Lieutenant with honest enthusiasm.

“I shall tell him that, and ask him how he liked your song.  Good-by,” and before the young man could collect his thoughts to make any reply, she was gone.

Skimming lightly over the ground at first, she gradually slackened her pace, and slowed down to a very sober walk until she came to a three-storied so-called “cottage” overlooking the Bay, then with a sigh she opened the gate, and went into the house by the servant’s entrance.

CHAPTER II

 In the sewing-room

Three women occupied the sewing-room with the splendid outlook:  a mother and her two daughters.  The mother sat in a low rocking-chair, a picture of mournful helplessness, her hands listlessly resting on her lap, while tears had left their traces on her time-worn face.  The elder daughter paced up and down the room as striking an example of energy and impatience as was the mother of despondency.  Her comely brow was marred by an angry frown.  The younger daughter stood by the long window, her forehead resting against the pane, while her fingers drummed idly on the window sill.  Her gaze was fixed on the blue Bay, where rested the huge British warship “Consternation,” surrounded by a section of the United States squadron seated like white swans in the water.  Sails of snow glistened here and there on the bosom of the Bay, while motor-boats and what-not darted this way and that impudently among the stately ships of the fleet.

In one corner of the room stood a sewing-machine, and on the long table were piles of mimsy stuff out of which feminine creations are constructed.  There was no carpet on the floor, and no ceiling overhead; merely the bare rafters and the boards that bore the pine shingles of the outer roof; yet this attic was notable for the glorious view to be seen from its window.  It was an ideal workshop.