The youths who came from New York to act as my ushers informed me
that the Ushers' Dinner at Harbor Castle-from which, after the fish
course, I had fled--was considered by them the most successful
ushers' dinner in their career of crime. My uncle-in-Law also
testifies to this. He ought to know. At four in the morning he was
assisting the ushers in throwing the best man and the butler into
the swimming-pool.

For our honeymoon he loaned us the yacht. "Take her as far as you
like," he said. "After this she belongs to you and Polly. And find
a better name for her than Harbor Lights. It sounds too much like
a stay-at-home. And I want you two to see the world." I thanked
him, and suggested he might rechristen her the JOLLY POLLY.

"That was the name," I pointed out, "of the famous whaler owned by
Captain Briggs, your wife's father, and it would be a compliment to
Polly, too."

My uncle-in-law-elect agreed heartily; but made one condition:

"I'll christen her that," he said, "if you will promise to write a
new Log of the JOLLY POLLY." I promised. This is it.