She wore a marvellous little printed gown. And here I may say that I have never to this day understood objections which were afterwards raised against my early attachment to print. The only legitimate attachment to print stuff, I was told, was to print stuff in the form of blouse, tennis, or boating costume. Yet, thought I, I would rather smuggle one of those little print gowns into my berth than all the silks a sea-faring friend of mine takes the trouble to smuggle from far Cathay. However, every one to his taste; for me, 

   No silken madam, by your leave, Though wondrous, wondrous she be, Can lure this heart—upon my sleeve—        From little pink-print Hebe. 

 

 For I found beneath that pretty print such a heart as seldom beats beneath your satin, warm and wild as a bird's. I used to put my ear to it sometimes to listen if it beat right. Ah, reader, it was like putting your ear to the gate of heaven. 

 And once I made a song for her, which ran like this:— 

   There grew twin apples high on a bough Within an orchard fair; The tree was all of gold, I vow, And the apples of silver were. 

   And whoso kisseth those apples high, Who kisseth once is a king, Who kisseth twice shall never die, Who kisseth thrice—oh, were it I!—                   May ask for anything. 

 

 Hebe blushed, and for answer whispered something too sweet to tell. 

 

 "Dear little head sunning over with curls," were I to meet you now, what would happen? Ah! to meet you now were too painfully to measure the remnant of my youth. 

 

 

 CHAPTER X 

 AGAIN ON FOOT—THE GIRLS THAT NEVER CAN BE MINE 

 Next morning I was afoot early, bent on my quest in right good earnest; for I had a remorseful feeling that I had not been sufficiently diligent the day before, had spent too much time in dreaming and moralising, in which opinion I am afraid the reader will agree. 

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