wondrous merit of the playing confirmed by an authority.

"He seems to be quite poor," he whispered eagerly. "Perhaps you might
find something for him, when we reach New York. He--"

"Ach! He will have no droobles," said Herr Karrosch. "A man who blays
like dot! Ven ve land, I see him; yes."

A moment later the flute-player glanced up and saw the audience behind
the rail. Instantly he lowered his slim instrument, from whose silver
mountings, now, the moonlight was beginning to glint prettily. He gave
the prosperous folk above but one short glance, apparently a bit
resentful, and then, as if they were of small importance, turned from
them to the mother of the child.

"Does she sleep, still?" John could hear him ask, as he bent above the
infant.

"Si, si," said the grateful mother, understanding what he meant,
although, apparently, she spoke no English.

"Good," said the flute-player, "I stop playing, then." And in spite of
a mild spatter of applause from the first-cabin deck and one or two
requests for more of his delightful music, he rose and went within. It
was clear that his soft courtesies, free performances, were for the
poor folk in the steerage, not for the rich upon the promenade.

Mrs. Vanderlyn was, after this, more than ever anxious to have John
approach the man and make acquaintance with him; but his belief that
such a course would be impertinent was strengthened. What the