more.

All. Oh, Miss Sommerfield! Did you see him? Will he? What did he say? Did he hypnotize you?

Miss Sommerfield. One at a time, young ladies. Let me tell my story, please. I found this wonderful man just where I had left him. I said, "Professor." He started, kicked over a chair, threw away his cigarette, stared at me, and said, "Pardon, mees, I was so rude." "Not at all, Professor," I said; "I am sorry to interrupt your reading." "I am most happy to be interrupted by a so charmant a young lady," he said, gallantly.

Grace. That was nice in him.

Miss Sommerfield. So then I told him about you and your request, and implored him to play for you. He listened, stroked his mustache, and toyed with his big diamond ring. "It is for the poor sick little children." "Ah!" he said, "America is von grand country for poor leetle children. They are efer doing something. Very well; why should I not play for these young ladies, and the poor sick little children?" "Then you will?" I said. "With pleasure," he said. "I do not play to eferybody. See? I do not become common. But this is different." "Oh, Professor," I said, "how can I thank you enough? Dare I ask what you will select?" And he said, "A thing from Chopin and one of my own compositions."

Miss Sommerfield. But hear the rest, and see, you naughty girls, what a position you have got me into. He said. "Do you not perform the piano, mademoiselle?" "A little, a very little," I said. "We shall then give a four-hand piece? Yes? Charmant! I have a nice thing, superb. We shall close the parlor doors, and practise together."

Madge (hugging her). The dear. See her blush. It will be simply an elegant affair.

Miss Sommerfield. But I am afraid to play with such a big musician. My heart will be in my mouth.

Charlotte. On no account, my dear. The practice will do you good. And the honor will be overwhelming.

Grace. Indeed, you are a beautiful player, and think how your name coupled with that of Skewsky will look. Everybody will turn green with envy.

Miss Sommerfield. If I don't spoil everything.

Ida. Girls, I see Uncle Jake. He's an old sailor who is hired to keep the grounds in order. He spins the most delicious yarns. I'm going after him, and let's see if we can set him a-going. [Exit.]

Victoria. What fun!

Charlotte. But we ought to let nothing interfere with our rehearsal.

Helen. Oh, bother the rehearsal! I have read these Old Sailor's yarns in Harper's Round Table, haven't you? But I never heard a real sailor talk.

Miss James. I would better be going. If there's to be a man in the party, mamma might not like—

Miss Sommerfield. You will not offend your mamma, I am sure. This old sailor is a harmless, good-natured fellow.

Grace. How does Ida come to know Uncle Jake?

Victoria. Her brother follows the sea, and naturally she makes up to sailors.

Olive. Ida is a darling.

Ida. I have fetched him, girls; but he says he's in a hurry, and can only say how-de. (Aside to the girls.) Do get him talking. His stories are genuine sailors' yarns.

Madge. How-de-do, Uncle Jake!

Charlotte. We are right glad to see you. Do sit and rest awhile on this bench.

Miss Sommerfield. We hope you are well, Uncle Jake?

Uncle Jake. Tol'able, ma'am, tol'able. My knees are stiff around the j'ints.

Ida. Uncle Jake, we are getting up an entertainment to be given in the hotel for the benefit of the Sea-side Home.

Uncle Jake. Now that's a good thing. Calc'late to fetch up there myself one of these days.

Victoria (laughing). But, Uncle Jake, this is not a home for old sailors. It's for sick and poor babies. You see, they would die in their overcrowded hot tenements; but they come to the home and get well.

Uncle Jake. Oh, land sakes! That must be what the old gentleman referred to. Sick babies. Yes, that's it.

Charlotte. What old gentleman?

Uncle Jake. The one I met in the Saragossa Sea.

Ida. Elegant. Girls, he's going to spin a yarn. Uncle Jake, do please tell us about that. Was it an adventure?

Uncle Jake. Quite so, miss. But I interrupt your proceedings.

Several at Once. Oh, go on. Do. Never mind the proceedings.

Uncle Jake. Well, that there was a tight scrape, and no mistake. I was second mate of the Blue Turquoise. It was a first-class voyage till we hove right inter the Saragossa Sea, and there we war becalmed and stuck as fast as a fly in mucilage. That Saragossa Sea is a curus place. Sea-weeds grow a mile long, with blossoms big as sun-flowers. Monsters swim around, and squat on the branches and squint at the ships a-lyin' becalmed. It made me kinder shiver to see them creturs' hungry looks. They knew a ship would rot to pieces, only give her time. Our Capting war powerful mad when he see he'd got inter the Saragossa Sea. But gettin' mad arter a thing is done don't do no good. Waal, it war a red and fiery ball of a sun. How I wished I could a set oncet more under a tree. Truly I'd ha' given my bottom dollar to be a settin' under that old oak that we had to hum, an' a breeze a-stirrin' the branches. Somethin' to dry up the perspiration. Willie war cabin-boy, and homesick and down in the mouth, poor youngster. The Capting's face warn't reassuring. He was plumb beat out.

Miss Sommerfield. Girls, do you recall Coleridge's "Ancient Mariner"?

Olive. Yes.

"As idle as a painted ship
Upon a painted ocean."

Go on, Uncle Jake.

"WAAL, ONE NIGHT I WAR ON DECK ALONE."

Uncle Jake. Waal, one night I war on deck alone. Willie he was thar too. The Capting he come up. "Ain't no change, mate?" says he. "No, sir," says I. "Bad business," says he. "Better soon, I hope," says I. "We're in the oidentical spot we was in two weeks ago," says he. "Mate, the perwisions is givin' out," says he, in a hoarse voice. "I know it, sir," says I. It was the wust feature of the case. Thar war Willie standin' by, mournful-like. I tried to hearten up the Capting a bit, but 'twarn't no use. "I'd ruther be in a whirlpool," says he, "than here. I'm goin' below. If there's a change call me," says he. So he went below, and pretty soon I heerd him and the rest of the crew snorin'. There warn't a solitary blessed thing for the men to do, and they war all turned in. Willie and me we staid up and watched the heavens of brass. It might ha' been midnight when I sighted a speck a long ways off. There warn't no wind, yet it came on wonderful fast. "D'ye see that, Willie, my boy?" says I. "It are a curus craft." But Willie warn't asleep. He seen it too. Come near, there war a 'nurmous shell with a fine hearty old gentleman sittin' in it, and by his side the harndsomest young lady (barrin' present company) that I ever seed. She war a beautiful cretur, with black eyes shinin' like stars, and long golden hair, which she war a-combin' out the snarls. The shell was drawed by two white sea-horses. Their backs was like great fishes, and their tails lay on top the water like fishes' tails. Their forrud part war like horses, and their manes was like tossin' waves. Bless my soul, but they made a putty pictur. When they was hove close to us the old gentleman hauled up his horses, and "Helloh!" says