"Again, I beg your pardon," I said. "I hadn't expected-"

She eyed me calmly with the stare of the child that

arrives at a drawing-room door by mistake and scrutinizes

the guests without awe. I didn't know what I had

expected or had not expected, and she manifested no

intention of helping me to explain. Her short skirt

suggested fifteen or sixteen-not more-and such being

the case there was no reason why I should not be master

of the situation. As I fumbled my pipe the hot coals

of tobacco burned my hand and I cast the thing from

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me.

She laughed a little and watched the pipe bound from

the dock into the water.

"Too bad!" she said, her eyes upon it; "but if you

hurry you may get it before it floats away."

"Thank you for the suggestion," I said. But I did

not relish the idea of kneeling on the dock to fish for a

pipe before a strange school-girl who was, I felt sure,

anxious to laugh at me.

She took a step toward the line by which her boat was

fastened.

"Allow me."

"If you think you can,-safely," she said; and the

laughter that lurked in her eyes annoyed me.

"The feminine knot is designed for the confusion of

man," I observed, twitching vainly at the rope, which

was tied securely in unfamiliar loops.

She was singularly unresponsive. The thought that

she was probably laughing at my clumsiness did not

make my fingers more nimble.

"The nautical instructor at St. Agatha's is undoubtedly

a woman. This knot must come in the post-graduate

course. But my gallantry is equal, I trust, to your

patience."

The maid in the red tam-o'-shanter continued silent.

The wet rope was obdurate, the knot more and more

hopeless, and my efforts to make light of the situation

awakened no response in the girl. I tugged away at the

rope, attacking its tangle on various theories.

"A case for surgery, I'm afraid. A truly Gordian knot,

but I haven't my knife."

"Oh, but you wouldn't!" she exclaimed. "I think I

can manage."

She bent down-I was aware that the sleeve of her

jacket brushed my shoulder-seized an end that I had

ignored, gave it a sharp tug with a slim brown hand and

pulled the knot free.

"There!" she exclaimed with a little laugh; "I might

have saved you all the bother."

"How dull of me! But I didn't have the combination,"

I said, steadying the canoe carefully to mitigate the

ignominy of my failure.

She scorned the hand I extended, but embarked with

light confident step and took the paddle. It was growing

late. The shadows in the wood were deepening; a

chill crept over the water, and, beyond the tower of the

chapel, the sky was bright with the splendor of sunset.

With a few skilful strokes she brought her little craft

beside my pipe, picked it up and tossed it to the wharf.




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