answer, and that things were different from what he was making them out to be? Who can tell? 

 She was wearing an old cap of Dick’s, which Mrs Stannard in the hurry and confusion had popped on her head. It was pushed to one side, and she made a quaint enough little figure as she sat up in the early morning brightness, dressed in the old salt-stained coat beside Dick, whose straw hat was somewhere in the bottom of the boat, and whose auburn locks were blowing in the faint breeze. 

 “Hurroo!” cried Dick, looking around at the blue and sparkling water, and banging with a stretcher on the bottom of the boat. “I’m goin’ to be a sailor, aren’t I, Paddy? You’ll let me sail the boat, won’t you, Paddy, an’ show me how to row?” 

 “Aisy does it,” said Paddy, taking hold of the child. “I haven’t a sponge or towel, but I’ll just wash your face in salt wather and lave you to dry in the sun.” 

 He filled the bailing tin with sea water. 

 “I don’t want to wash!” shouted Dick. 

 “Stick your face into the water in the tin,” commanded Paddy. “You wouldn’t be going about the place with your face like a sut-bag, would you?” 

 “Stick yours in!” commanded the other. 

 Mr Button did so, and made a hub-bubbling noise in the water; then he lifted a wet and streaming face, and flung the contents of the bailing tin overboard. 

 “Now you’ve lost your chance,” said this arch nursery-strategist, “all the water’s gone.” 

 “There’s more in the sea.” 

 “There’s no more to wash with, not till to-morrow—the fishes don’t allow it.” 

 “I want to wash,” grumbled Dick. “I want to stick my face in the tin, same’s you did; ’sides, Em hasn’t washed.” 

 “I don’t mind,” murmured Emmeline. 

 “Well, thin,” said Mr Button, as if making a sudden resolve, “I’ll ax the sharks.” He leaned over the boat’s side, his face close to the surface of the water. “Halloo there!” he shouted, and then bent his head sideways to listen; the children also looked over the side, deeply interested. 

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