The Honorable Percival

								

flying across the sand toward him.
"Mr. Hascombe!" she demanded breathlessly, "you'll take me out in the
surf-boat, won't you? The boys haven't come, and Mrs. Weston is afraid
for me to go alone."
"But my dear young lady, it's quite impossible. I'm looking for the
purser. They say he's going to put--"
"Bother the purser! We haven't a minute to lose. The steamer sails at
five."
"But really, I can't. And I quite agree with Mrs. Weston that it would
be most awfully improper for you to go alone."
"Well, if you don't take me, I will go alone!" she said defiantly;
then she suddenly changed her tactics, and added with childish insistence:
"But you are going to take me now, aren't you? Please?"
He could scarcely believe his senses when, a few minutes later, he found
himself frantically struggling into a rented bathing-suit in a steaming
little bath-house that gave evidence of recent use. But a glance into
the mirror that hung on the door not only convinced him of his identity,
but added the comforting assurance that he was not by any means looking
his worst in his present garb. He paused long enough to flex a
presentable bicep with pardonable pride.
"Hurry up!" called Bobby, joyfully, as he emerged. "There are three
Kanakas and you and I. Can you swim?"
"Rather," said Percival.
They ran down to the beach to where the canoe, a long, narrow affair
with curious outriders, awaited them.
"The last boat that went out capsized," cried Bobby, gleefully taking
her place behind the second Kanaka. "The men were in the water five
minutes, but the sharks didn't happen to notice them."
"Sharks!" exclaimed Percival in consternation.
The native in the front seat grinned and shook his head.
"No sharks this side of the reef," he said reassuringly.
As they paddled out over the blue water, Bobby's enthusiasm dashed like
spray against the rock of Percival's seeming indifference.
"Isn't this the most heavenly place that ever happened!" she cried.
"Look at the mountains back yonder against the sky, and the mists in the
valleys, and all the color spilling out over the edge of the land into
the sea!"
"Ye-es," said Percival; "but as a matter of fact I find the mosquitos
peculiarly trying."
Now, if the truth must be told, it was not the mosquitos which were
disturbing the Honorable Percival. It was not even his failure to find
the purser. It was the disconcerting discovery that this persistent
young woman from the States was making him do things he didn't in the
least want to do. He glared gloomily at the back of her white neck,
across which a dark lock floated tantalizingly.
As the space between them and the shore widened, the surf became
stronger and higher, until by the time they reached the reef the canoe
was dancing like a shell on the water.