Aunt Florence didn't forget 'Phonse, and it was evident to the marine reporter's family that 'Phonse didn't forget her. He scarcely said thank you when she gave him his new suit, but every morning while Aunt Florence was in Mackinaw a bunch of wild flowers was found tied to the front door-knob. Once only a bit of pasteboard was attached, upon which was written in letters hard to read, "For billies ant."

At first the family wondered why 'Phonse kept away, but when they learned that Antoine LeBrinn had sold his little son's new clothes for drink, they understood.

"Poor little fellow," Aunt Florence said one morning, when a cluster of bluebells was brought her, wound so closely not a blossom could move its dainty head. "How I wish he would come again."

"He won't, though, 'cept when nobody knows," observed Billy, "and if any one says a word against his father, he'll fight."

"I'm curious to see his father, too," replied Aunt Florence. "Betty has told me so much about the family that I'd like to talk to that man; I'd say some things he'd remember."

"Antoine used to come often," said Betty. "We always tease him to tell stories. Everybody likes him; you'll see him sometime, auntie, and then you'll like him, too."

"I shall tell him what I think of him," declared Aunt Florence; but a week later, when Antoine came, she didn't say a word.

It was a rainy afternoon, and when Billy announced that the game must be circus as usual, and that the parade should be first on the programme, Betty objected.

"Billy Grannis," she exclaimed, "you're a nuisance. Gerald and I have played circus with you until we are sick and tired of it. You may be a lion-tamer if you want to, but you and your old lion will have to have a show of your own. I won't stand it any longer, and you can't have my cat for a polar bear, either."

"Why, Bet," was the remonstrance, "what makes you be so cross? I thought you liked to play circus. Do you want to be the lion-tamer this time, Bet? I'll let you take my big dog; do you want to, Betty?"

"No, Billy, I don't want to be anything that's in a circus, so there! I'll play Grace Darling, though; you and Gerald and Hero may be the shipwrecked sailors, and I'll be Grace Darling."

"I don't want to play shipwreck," declared Gerald. "I had enough of shipwrecks when the California went down."

"Me, too," echoed Billy. "I'd rather play Noah and the flood. Oh, Betty, let's play that, and then my dog Hero can be the lion,—no, Betty no, I didn't mean it; he can be the elephant, I mean, and your cat can be a—a—what other animal is white 'sides a polar bear? And, oh, Gerald, your bluest pigeon can be the dove."

"But why don't you want to play Grace Darling?" interrupted Betty. "I'll let you take my dolls for the shipwrecked children, and I'll live in the lighthouse."

"If you want to know what's fun," put in Gerald, "just listen to me. Let's play—"

"But I want to play get the animals out of the ark," insisted Billy.

"And I say," Betty argued, "that you don't know whether you like to play Grace Darling or not until you try it. Who's going to be captain of the shipwrecked boat, you, Billy, or Gerald? Now, this rug is the Northumberland coast."

"No, sir," shouted Billy, "it's Mt. Ararat."

"Why, children, what's going on?" asked Aunt Florence, who was passing the doorway.

"We all want to play different things," explained Betty.

"Why don't you make signal-flags, like the ones on the chart?" suggested Aunt Florence. "You know what I mean, Betty, the chart I saw you looking at yesterday in your father's office, the one with the pictures of signal-flags on it. I'll find sheets of red and blue and yellow and white paper, and I believe you can have a nice time making tiny paper flags. I'll get some paste ready for you, too."

"But what are the flags for?" asked Billy, "and why do they put letters beside of them on the chart?"

"It tells all about the signal-flags in papa's marine directory, and I'm going after it," announced Betty.

"She can tell you about the signals, Billy," said Aunt Florence, "and let's see who can make the most perfect little flags. Gerald will help you, Billy, won't you, Gerald?"

"Don't need any help," Billy hastened to say, "'less he wants to whittle out flag-sticks."

"That's so, auntie," agreed Gerald. "I'll go after something to use for flagstaffs."

"And I'm going after some shears and things, and then," said Billy, "I'm going to cut out the 'B' flag. It's all red, auntie, and cut the way Betty's hair-ribbons are on the ends. I guess I will make the 'Q' flag, 'cause it's just a square made out of yellow; and the 'S' is easy, too, just white with a blue square in the centre. Oh, auntie's gone. Don't you feel queer, Hero, when you talk to somebody that isn't there?"

Gerald and Betty returned quickly with coloured paper and a book.

"Now, Billy," remarked the little girl, in her most severe tone, "put down the shears and listen a minute. I'm going to read out of the Marine Directory."

"Don't read it; tell it," besought Billy.

"She wants to read it just because she can read big words without stopping to spell them," declared Gerald, after a glance at the open book.

Betty could read much better than Gerald ever expected to.

"It isn't that," was the reply, "but, if you will listen, you will know that the book tells it all better than I can. Now listen: 'The necessity for a uniform and comprehensive system of signalling at sea'—Billy Grannis, stop making faces. I've got to begin it all over again. 'The necessity for a uniform and comprehensive system of signalling at sea and to shore stations on the coast of the United States and other countries has long been felt and discussed by those interested in maritime pursuits, and by the leading maritime powers of the world.' Now, Gerald, stop acting like a goose. You and Billy both know what 'maritime' means just as well as I do. Now listen, and I'll go on. 'In view of this necessity, the adoption of a common code of signals to be observed by all nations, discarding all other codes and systems, appears to be in a high degree desirable and important. The international code of signals has been recommended and adopted by nearly all the principal nations of the world, and it is now the only code recognized or of practical use. It is the only one which, from its completeness, is likely to fully meet the existing need.'

"Billy, what ails you? Do stop laughing. What's the matter with you, Gerald,—tooth-ache?"

"No, Betty, worse'n that. When I think how your jaws must feel, I—"

"Now, Gerald, I don't believe you know a word I've read."

"Well, Betty, I should say not. Who could?"

"What I want to know is, what are all these flags for?" demanded Billy. "So please shut that old book and tell us."

"You horrid boys," exclaimed Betty, "I don't see how you ever expect to 'mount to anything."

"Wouldn't if we were girls," was Gerald's retort, which Betty didn't seem to hear. She often had deaf spells.

"Now, Billy dear," she went on, "you see there are eighteen of the signal-flags. They are marked B, C, D, F, G, H, J, K, L, M, N, P, Q, R, S, T, V, and W. Besides these are two little pointed flags that mean 'Yes' and 'No.' The 'Yes' flag is white with a round red spot, and the flag that means 'No' is blue with a round white spot on it."

"Oh, now I know," exclaimed Billy. "If your boat wants to tell another boat 'No,' then it puts up the pointed blue flag."

"Yes, Billy, that's it."

"How do they use the other flags?" inquired Gerald. "You can't spell things without a's and o's."

"Don't you see, Gerald, each flag means something. Look on the back of the chart and you will see how they use the flags. The first signal is 'H—B.' When those two flags are displayed,—'display' is the right word to use, mister, so don't make eyes. When the 'H' flag and the 'B' flag are displayed together, with the 'H' above the 'B,' that's a signal that means 'Want immediate assistance.'

"Oh, boys, now I'll tell you what let's play. Every ship, you know, should carry a set of these signal-flags, so let's play we're all boats. I'll be a yacht, I guess, because yachts are beautiful."

"I'm a steam-tug—choo—choo—choo!—and my name's the tug Billy. Choo—choo choo—"

"Good, Bill!" exclaimed Gerald. "You're built just right for a tug. I guess I'll be the schooner Gerald of the White Star Line. Lumber's my cargo."

"Dear me, I can't be just a yacht, sailing around for the fun of it," remarked Betty. "I must be part of the merchant marine myself."

"Part of the dictionary, you mean," grumbled Gerald.

Betty was deaf for a moment. "I guess I would rather not be what you boys are, after all, so I'll be a passenger boat, the City of Elizabeth. I'm an ocean liner."

"Oh, that's just like a girl," and Gerald laughed. "An ocean liner on the Great Lakes. Oh, oh!"

"Did you ever get left, smarty Gerald? I tell you, I'm an ocean liner. These signals aren't used on the Great Lakes, only on the ocean. Besides that, if I'm a boat, I want the ocean to sail on. I couldn't think of puddling around in a little bit of water. I'm the finest steamship afloat, and I make regular trips between—oh, I guess London and New York. That will give you some work to do, Billy, because I'll need a steam-tug to pilot me into the harbour every time. You'll make a dear little pilot-boat, you are so chubby."

"Choo—choo—choo! toot—toot—toot!" responded the steam-tug Billy.

"What's the use of making a full set of flags?" remonstrated Gerald. "If we're going to play boat, let's play boat, and pretend we have them all. I've made the 'N—M' flags, that mean 'I'm on fire.'"

"That's what I say," agreed Billy. "I found out that 'P—N' means 'Want a steam-tug,' so I've made two sets of 'P—N' flags, one for you and one for Betty to use. For my own self, the 'Yes' and 'No' flags are all I want. You two better pin your 'Want a steam-tug' flags on; they won't stay stuck. Choo—choo—choo! toot—toot! Here I come puffing around—toot—toot—toot—see my black smoke! Oh, Bet, let's play there came up an awful fog, so we'll have to toot our horns all the time."

"And keep our bells sounding all the while we are at anchor," added Gerald.

When the three boats began making trips, there were collisions and noise. Hero tried in vain to keep out of the way.

"He's a reef; there ought to be a lighthouse on him," suggested Betty.

"Look out for the St. Bernard Shoals," assented Gerald. "Hold on, there's a tug ashore,—a wreck on the St. Bernard Shoals."

"Toot—toot—toot! puff—puff! choo—choo—choo!" This from the steam-tug Billy.

"Tug is off the shoals, no lives lost," commented Gerald. "Oh, fire! fire! fire! My deck is all in flames. Up goes my signal 'I'm on fire,' and now where's my 'Want a steam-tug' signal. Oh, right here. I shall be saved if the tug Billy doesn't burst his boilers before he gets here!"

It so happened that the tug fell sprawling over the St. Bernard Shoals, and but for the timely assistance of the steamship City of Elizabeth, the schooner Gerald of the White Star Line must have been lost with all on board. To be sure, Gerald emptied his pockets upon the floor, insisting that everything that fell, from his jack-knife to marbles, were frantic sailors, who either perished in the sea or were devoured by sharks.

In the meantime, the St. Bernard Shoals made trouble for the steam-tug Billy. "Can't even blow my whistle," puffed Billy. "Hero, let me get up. Don't keep tumbling me over and over. Don't you know I'm a boat? Go 'way, Hero. Open the door, Gerald, so he'll go out. Call him, Betty."

Outside the window, Hero tried his best to persuade the children to come out and play in the rain.

"Oh, dear, let's rest a minute," suggested Betty.

"And say over the verses we learned that day of the worst blizzard last winter," added Billy. "You know what I mean, Betty, the rules for steamers passing, and then, Betty, we'll play it is a dark night when we go on some more trips."

"Oh, I'll tell you," put in Gerald, "we'll cut lanterns out of paper, red and green and white ones, and pin them on."

"Begin the verses first, Betty; let's say them all together," suggested Billy, "and say them loud so Hero can hear."

"Let me see," Betty hesitated, "the first one is this:

"Here's a red lantern for you, Bill," interrupted Gerald, "and this is yours, Betty. Go on, why don't you? The next verse is about two steamers passing."

"Oh, I remember; say it with me, boys:

"Then, boys, the third verse is about steamships crossing:

By this time three voices were singing merrily:

Billy gave a shout. "Oh, look, Betty! look, Gerald! There's Antoine at the gate, and he's afraid of Hero. He doesn't dare pass him."

"He's calling you, Billy; go get your dog." Gerald laughed as he spoke.

"'Both in safety and in doubt, always keep a good lookout,'" mocked Billy. "He's scared to death. Look at him back up when Hero walks toward him. 'Should there not be room to turn, stop your ship and go astern.' If Antoine was a boat, he could play Hero was an iceberg. Hey, Bet?"

At last Antoine saw the children.

"If we don't stop laughing," warned Betty, "he'll go away. He may think we're making fun of him."

"Oh, how I wish Hero would give one of his loud barks," added Gerald. "Oh, I believe he will, sure as anything. He doesn't know what to think of Antoine. I guess he never saw any one act so queer. Now just see him stand there in front of the gate and make crazy motions."

Suddenly Hero gave three loud barks that startled the little Frenchman almost out of his senses.

"Look at him jump," continued Gerald. "He went up in the air like a rubber ball."

"It's too bad," protested Betty. "I'm going to the door to tell Antoine that Hero won't hurt him. Billy, you go and get your dog."

"Oh, I say, Bill," suggested Gerald, "instead of getting Hero, why don't you tow Antoine into port?"

"Oh, goody! Choo—choo—choo!—where's my tow-line?"

"Here, you rascal!" exclaimed Betty, "how dare you take my hair-ribbons. Why, Billy, you'll spoil them tying them together in a hard knot like that."

"One's too short—choo—ch—choo!—toot—toot—toot—French boat in distress, don't you see? Gerald, you go and pin your 'Want a steam-tug' flag on him."

Away flew Gerald, while Betty and Billy stood laughing in the window. Antoine not only allowed Gerald to pin the flag upon him, but instantly began making an active display of his signals, calling aloud for the steam-tug Billy.

"Toot—toot—toot!—choo—choo—choo!" was the immediate response, and the steam-tug went puffing to the rescue regardless of the falling rain.

"Make fast the hawser," commanded Billy, passing Antoine the tow-line. "It's kind of short," he added, under his breath.

Antoine obeyed.

"Choo—choo—choo!—ding—ding—ding—make fast. Ding—ding—ding—let go." Slowly did the steam-tug venture into deep water; too slowly to suit Antoine, whose fear of the dog was genuine. Gerald had explained that Hero never harmed any one Billy befriended, merely hinting at dark possibilities that might befall the unwary. He also laughingly told Antoine that Hero was not a dog, but a dangerous reef. In a short time the little Frenchman had reason to believe that the reef was volcanic in its nature.

"Choo—choo—choo"—on came the steam-tug, the French boat close behind. "Choo—choo—choo—choo"—slower and slower the two approached the reef, the steam-tug venturing nearer and nearer, to the dismay of the boat in tow.

Four sharp whistles sounded from the tug. It was the danger-signal! The steam-tug Billy was on the reef, and but for the parting of the hawser the French boat must have followed.

"Don't you try to run, Antoine," called Gerald; "you can't tell what Hero might do. You better stand right still till Billy gets on his feet again." Then he and Betty laughed. Terror was pictured on Antoine's face as the dog barked and pranced around, thoroughly enjoying the game.

Billy struggled to his feet. "Toot—toot—make fast," he commanded, and Betty's hair-ribbons were once more tied together, how loosely only Billy knew.

"Toot—go ahead," he sung out, but again the hawser parted, and Antoine, watching Hero, dared not stir. "Toot—toot—toot," there was the sound of laughter in the whistle, and the captain's voice was scarcely steady as he called out, "Slow up," then "Toot—stop—toot—toot—back up—make fast—toot—go ahead."

Safely into port came the French boat, in the midst of cheering from the decks of the City of Elizabeth and the schooner Gerald of the White Star Line.