On the Lightship

by Herman Knickerbocker Vielé

"Please stop discussing, and let me hear the rest," Mabel pouted. "Do go on, Mr. Ferris."

"I can't," said Mr. Ferris, sadly. "My story has been garbled by the printer."

"But the waltz," urged Mr. Hopworthy. "Surely, that waltz was yours."

Perhaps once more the irresistible logic of events became apparent, for, with an effort, Mr. Ferris said:

"Oh, yes, that waltz was mine. Enraptured by its strains, and giddy with the fumes of wine, The Almoner floated in a dream of sensuous delight till suddenly he recalled—suddenly he recalled——"

"If you will pardon another interruption," put in Mr. Hopworthy, "he did nothing of the sort. Suddenly, as you must remember, word was brought that The Abbot was dead, and that Ignatius had been elected in his place."

"You spoil my climax, sir," the author cried. "Dashing the wine cup from his lips, Ignatius then rushed into the night——"

"But he could not find the soldier anywhere," Mr. Hopworthy interposed.

"Why should he want to find the confounded soldier?" demanded the narrator, fiercely.