When he did so, he encountered a sight that filled him with chagrin.
Wrapped in the folds of his rug was that obnoxious blue-and-lavender
steamer-coat, with its owner snugly ensconced within, her eyes closed,
and her cheek brazenly reposing on the Hascombe crest that adorned the
pillow under her head!

Percival paused, irresolute, and his nostrils quivered. He wanted
very much to sit down, and he was unwilling to occupy any other
steamer-chair, for fear its owner might claim it. There was nothing left
for him but to pace up and down that undulating deck until the young
person opened her eyes and discovered, by glances which he would render
unmistakable, that she was trespassing.

When his third round brought him in front of her, and he saw that she
was awake, he carefully adjusted his monocle, and turned upon her a look
that was not unfamiliar to certain menials in the employ of Hascombe
Hall.

But no withering blight followed his look. Instead, the wearer of the
gaudy coat sat up suddenly and said, with a radiant smile:

"Well, did you ever! Where did _you_ come from?"

[Illustration: "Well, did you ever! Where did _you_ come from?"]

By a curious twist, his mind suddenly beheld a rolling prairie in place
of the tumbling sea, and a comely figure in khaki and brown leggings in
place of the muffled form in the hideous coat. His suspicion was
confirmed when he met the frank gaze of the bluest eyes that ever held a
challenge.