"_Have_ we?" sweetly inquired Miss Van Buren. "I'm a little near-sighted, and I've such a wretched memory for faces. Unless I notice people particularly, I have to be introduced at least twice before it occurs to me to bow."

"Oh, but, _Nell_," protested Miss Rivers. "Surely you know we saw Mr.--no, _Jonkheer_ Brederode--with your cousin at the Museum in Delft, and then afterwards you----"

"People's _clothes_ make so much difference," remarked Miss Van Buren.

"Oh, but I wasn't thinking of your sea adventure, so much as when Jonkheer Brederode rode in the contest----"

"I'm afraid I was looking at the horses," cut in her stepsister.

If Robert had been on board at this juncture he would probably have wished to box his cousin's ears, but I had no such desire, though mine were tingling. In fact, I should have enjoyed boxing Robert's; for I saw that, with the best intentions in the world (and intentions are dangerous weapons!), my too-loyal friend had in some way contrived to make me appear insufferable. Perhaps he'd given the impression that I had boasted an intention to meet her within a given time, and she took this for my brutal way of carrying out the boast.

"What is a Jonkheer?" the _pseudo_ Lady MacNairne demanded of Starr.

"I don't know exactly," he admitted.

"_Don't_ you? But, nephew dear, how can you help knowing, when you have an _old_ friend who is one?"

(Was there a spice of malice in this question?)

"You see, almost ever since I've known him, I've thought of him as Alb,"

Starr explained hastily. "Alb is a kind of--er--pet name."

"I suppose it means something nice in Dutch," said Miss Rivers, in the soft, pretty way she has, which would fain make every one around her happy. "But I think Mr. van Buren told us that 'Jonkheer' was like our baronet; Jonkheer instead of 'Sir,' isn't it?"

"Something of the sort," I answered.

"It sticks in the throat, if you'll excuse me for saying so, like a bit of crust," remarked Aunt Fay.

"You can all call him Alb," said Starr.

"Why not compromise with Skipper?" asked Miss Van Buren, looking at my yachting-cap (rather a nice one) with serene impertinence. "We shall probably never have the pleasure of knowing him on land, so why stumble over Dutch names or t.i.tles? He has come on board 'Lorelei' to be our skipper, hasn't he? So he would probably prefer to be _called_ 'Skipper.'"

Starr leaned down to pat Tibe, shaking all over. "Ha, ha, ha!" he gasped. "I never _saw_ such a funny tail; I do hope it isn't going to give me hysterics."

But n.o.body else laughed, and Miss Rivers was gazing at her stepsister in a shocked, questioning way, her violet eyes saying as plainly as if they spoke----

"My darling girl, what possesses you to be so rude to an inoffensive foreigner?"

I should have liked to ask the same question, in the same words; but I said nothing, did nothing except turn the wheel with the air of that Miller who grinds slowly but exceedingly small, and smile a hard, confident smile which warned the enemy----

"Oh yes, you _are_ going to know me on land, and love me on land, so you might as well make up your mind to what has to come."

She caught the look, which forcibly dragged hers down from my hat-brim, and I am convinced that she read its meaning. It made her hate me a degree worse, of course; but what is an extra stone rolled behind the doors of the resisting citadel, or a gallon more or less of boiling oil to dash on the heads of the besiegers? If they are determined, it comes to the same thing in the end.

Fortunately for the spirits of the other players who were "on" in this scene (in a subordinate capacity), the fair Enemy was not of the nature to sulk. True, of free will she did not address me; but having shown her opinion of and intentions toward the person deserving punishment, she did not weary her arm with continued castigation. Instead, she gave herself up heart and soul to delight in her first taste of "botoring."

She basked in it, she reveled in it; had she been a kitten, I think she would have purred in sheer physical enjoyment of it.

"_My_ boat! My _boat_!" she repeated, lingering over the words as if they had been cream and sugar. "Oh, I wonder if it _knows_ it's My Boat?

I wish it could. I should like it to get fond of me. I _know_ it's alive. Feel its heart beat. What Tibe is to Lady MacNairne, 'Lorelei' is going to be to me. We never lived before, did we, Phil? And aren't you glad we came? Who knows what will become of us after this, for we certainly never can go home again and take up life where we left it off."

"You shan't. I'll see to that," I said to myself; but this time she was not looking even at the brim of my cap. Her eyes, luminous with childlike happiness, searched and photographed each new feature of river-life that skimmed swiftly past us.

"We might become motor-boat pirates," she went on. "There'd be no anti-climax about that; and I dare say we could make a living. We'd hoist the black flag whenever we came to a nice lonely stretch of water, with a rich-looking barge or two, or a fine country house on sh.o.r.e, and the work would begin. Tibe would terrorize our victims. But, speaking of the black flag, I see the star-spangled banner floats o'er the deck of the free and the cabins of the brave. How charming of you to think of putting it there, Mr. Starr! It would never have occurred to me."

"It would have been charming, if it _had_ occurred to me," said the Mariner; "but it didn't."

"Perhaps our skipper can explain the mystery," remarked the Chaperon, graciously.

I smiled. "I happened to have the little silk flag," said I, "and as the owner of the boat is an American, I took the liberty of flying her colors from the mast to-day; they went up early this morning. But we have another flag with us for emergencies--that of my Sailing and Rowing Club,--which, when we show it, will give us the right to enter sluices--or locks, as you call them--ahead of anything else."

"Alb, you have your uses," observed the Mariner. "Why can't we keep your flag up all the time--under the Stars and Stripes?"

"It wouldn't be fair to make use of it except in extreme cases," I said.

"All these lighter and bargemen whom we see have their living to get.

Time's money to them, while it's pleasure to us. It's right that they should get through ahead, when they're first comers; but there may be occasions when we shall need our advantage; and till then I'll keep the flag up my sleeve, with your permission."

"I never thought to feel so _safe_ on a motor-boat," exclaimed Miss Rivers. "Since we made up our minds to come--or rather Nell made up hers--I've added another prayer to those I've been accustomed to say for years--that we shouldn't blow up, or, if we _had_ to blow up, that we shouldn't realize long enough beforehand to be frightened; and that we should blow into quite little pieces which couldn't know anything about it afterwards. But now I've such a peaceful feeling, I have to make myself remember that any instant may be my last."

"I wouldn't try," said Miss Van Buren. "I suppose, when one thinks of it, worse things could happen to one on a motor-boat than in a motor-car, because there's water all round; but it seems so heavenly restful, rather like motoring in heaven might be, and no frightened horses, or barking dogs, or street children to worry you."

"I pity people on steamboats, just as the other day, when we motored, I pitied people in stuffy black trains," said Miss Rivers. "But I don't pity the people on lighters and barges. Don't they look delightful? I should love to live on that one with the curly-tailed red lion on the prow, and the green house with white embroidered curtains and flower-pots, and sweet little china animals in the windows. It's called 'Anna Maria,' and oh, it's worked by a _motor_!"

"Lots of them are, nowadays," I said. "They're easy to rig up, and save work. I happen to know 'Anna Maria,' and the lady she's named after, who lives on board and thinks herself the happiest woman on earth--or water.

There she goes, on her way to the kitchen, with her baby in her arms.

Pretty creatures both, aren't they?"

"Pictures!" cried Miss Rivers; and her stepsister, who at the moment was being particularly nice to the Mariner (I fancy by way of showing the Outcast how nice she can be--to others), glanced up from a map of Holland, which Starr had opened, across his knees. "It's like a very young Madonna and Child, painted by a Dutch master. I wish you could introduce us."

"Perhaps I will, when we come back this way," said I. "You shall go on board and have tea with Anna Maria and her baby, and the husband too, who's as good-looking as the rest of the family. They would be delighted, and proud to show off their floating home, which saved Anna Maria's life."

"How? It sounds like a story."

"So it is--a humble romance. Anna Maria's the daughter of a bargeman, and was born and brought up on a barge. When she was seventeen and keeping house-boat for her father (the mother died when she was a child) the poor man had an accident, and was drowned. There wasn't much money saved up for Anna Maria, so the barge was sold, and she had to live on dry land, and learn how to be a dressmaker. She was as miserable as a goldfish would be if you took it out of its bowl and laid it on the table. In a few months she'd fallen into a decline, and though, just at that time, she met a dashing young chauffeur, who took a fancy to her pretty, pale face, even love wasn't strong enough to save her. The chauffeur, poor fellow, thought there was no flower in the garden of girls as sweet as his white snowdrop. He felt, if he could only afford to buy a lighter for himself, they might marry, and the bride's life might be saved. But it was out of the question, and perhaps the idyl would have ended in tragedy, had he not confided his troubles to his master. That master, as it happened, had a lighter which he'd fitted up with a motor. He'd used it all summer, and got his money's worth of fun out of it; so when he heard the story, he told the chauffeur he would give him the thing as it stood, for a wedding present, and it must be rechristened 'Anna Maria.'

"What a lamb of a master! I quite love him!" exclaimed Miss Van Buren, before she remembered that she was talking to One beyond the Pale.

"There wasn't much merit; he was tired of his toy," I answered carelessly; but I felt my face grow red.

"I don't believe it a bit. He just said that," cried Miss Rivers. "I should love him too. Is he a Dutchman?"

"I shouldn't be surprised if he was half English, half Dutch," remarked Starr, good-naturedly.

"Or if he was making our wheel go round now," finished Aunt Fay, pulling Tibe's ear.

"Oh!" said Miss Van Buren, and buried her nose in the map.

She and Starr were tracing, or pretending to trace, our route to Gouda, whither we were going, and where we expected to lunch. Hurriedly she threw herself into a discussion with him as to whether we were now in the Lek or the Maas. Reason said Maas, but the map said Lek, though it was a thing, thought the lady, about which there could be no two opinions; it must be one or the other.