The Luck of the Irish. Harold MacGrath

both laughed; but her laughter ceased first. She became suddenly and guiltily conscious of the snobbery in it.

       The beautiful days slipped past. Never, in all his dreams, had William found such fun in life. He made friends, port and starboard; even the aristocracy smiled at and with him. And he had his own secret fun, the gamin's outlook. There were always four or five kiddies trailing at his heels; and whenever he paused to play with them ​there was a strange beauty in his face. He loved children.

      The only D. A. R. in northwest Kansas consulted him about taking up the collection for the seamen's fund; the only poet in southwest Pennsylvania complained to him of the inconsistencies of D'Annunzio's flights; the first mayor of Spottsville, Oklahoma, (Mr. Spotts) discoursed on our foreign policies; and the most important invalid on board drew diagrams of his various operations for William's edification. The two young Misses Doolittle (from up-State)—their father had served a term in the State Legislature—described William as "delicious"! The old men called him the human dynamo; the old ladies whose feet he sometimes tucked in declared that he was "a dear"; and the children called him "great." Such a man may be a "character," but he is never insignificant.

      They dropped the Azores, and that night William ran afoul a most peculiar adventure. He had finished his second cigar after dinner it was about eleven and was taking a three-times-around before turning in. His thoughts centered upon his school-teacher, naturally.

      This train of thought was abruptly and painfully derailed by human energy. Some one fell upon his back like the old man of the sea, out of nowhere.