"A feller in my line of business don't gather much useful information, but he certainly gets Jerry to the female question in all its dips, angles, and spurs. Cherry Malotte is the squarest girl I ever saw, and while she may have been crowded at the turn, she'll finish true. It takes a thoroughbred to do that, and the guy that gets her will win his Derby. Now, those fillies on the yacht, for instance, warm up fine, but you can't tell how they'll run."
"We're not talking of marriage," said Boyd, as he rose. When he had gone out, Fraser ruminated aloud:
"Maybe not! I ain't very bright, and we may have been talking about the weather. However, if you're after that wild-flower dame with the cold-storage talk instead of Cherry Malotte, why, I hope you get her. There's no accounting for tastes. I certainly did my best to send you along this morning." Turning to the Jap steward, he remarked, sagely: "My boy, always remember one thing—if you can't boost, don't knock."
Wayne Wayland was by no means sure that Boyd would not make good his threat to visit the yacht that evening, and in any case he wished to be prepared. A scene before the other passengers of The Grande Dame was not to be thought of. Besides, if the young man were roughly handled, it would make him a martyr in Mildred's eyes. He talked over the matter with Marsh, who suggested that the sightseers should dine ashore and spend the evening with him at the plant. With only Mildred and her father left on the yacht, there would be no possibility of scandal, even if Emerson were mad enough to force an interview.
"And what is more," declared Mr. Wayland, "I shall give orders to clear on the high tide. That fellow is a menace, and the sooner Mildred is away from him the better. You shall go with us, my boy."
But when he went to Mildred, to explain the nature of his arrangements, he found her in a furious temper.
"Why did you announce my engagement to Mr. Marsh?" she demanded, angrily. "The whole ship is talking about it. By what right did you do that?"
"I did it for your own sake," said the old man. "This whelp, Emerson, has made a fool of you and of me long enough. There must be an end to it."
"But I don't love Willis Marsh!" she cried. "You forget I am of age."
"Nonsense! Willis is a fine fellow, he loves you, and he is the best business man for his years I have ever known. If it were not for this foolish boy-and-girl affair, you would return his love. He suits me, and—well, I have put my foot down, so there's an end of it."