Part 29 (2/2)

Another shout at this.

”I only got a little damp on the outside,” said Will, politely. ”I'll soon evaporate.”

”You needn't all laugh,” said Cricket, defensively. ”I was in the water longer than he was, and so I didn't suppose he'd had time to get as wet through.”

”I didn't,” said Will, ”only as far as my skin. I'm not porous.”

They had been tacking all the time, back and forth, much to Hilda's amazement, who could not understand how that crab-like motion would ever bring them home. They were now coming past the Gurnet Lights.

”We can put in there, mother, if you like,” suggested Archie, ”and get the mermaid dried off, if you think best.”

”It's really not necessary. Cricket is rubbed pretty dry, and one rarely takes cold in sea-water. Keep down in the bottom of the boat, Cricket, out of the breeze as much as you can.”

”I'm just thinking to myself,” said Will, ”that in five minutes you'll be hunting for a breeze to sit in. It's certainly dying down.”

”Will, if you becalm us out here in this broiling sun when you've forgotten to bring the other oar to row with, I'll never forgive you,”

exclaimed Edna.

”I haven't the least desire to do it, my lady,” said Will, scanning the now cloudless sky, ”but I think it's what we're in for. Have you anything left to eat in case we make a night of it, mother?”

”A night of it?” cried Hilda, in dismay. ”Where would we sleep?”

”All curled up in little bundles in the bottom of the boat,” cut in Archie. ”It's not bad. Only it takes some time next day to get the kinks out of your legs.”

”He's teasing you, my dear,” said Mrs. Somers. ”We won't be here all night, but it often happens that we are becalmed for several hours, and I really don't enjoy the prospect. Come, Will, whistle up the breeze.”

”It's Cricket that does that,” said Archie; ”she always scares the wind into coming up immediately. There's a puff now. The very mention of Cricket's whistling does the business.”

But the wind only freshened for a moment, then died down, and in ten minutes more they lay motionless on a gla.s.sy sea.

”Now here we'll stay,” said Edna with a sigh, ”until the sea-breeze springs up this afternoon at four or five. What time is it now? Two o'clock! Think of it!”

”The tide takes us along a little,” said Mrs. Somers. ”If we only had the other oar now!”

”Scull,” suggested Edna.

”Too much work,” said Archie; but, nevertheless, he adjusted the oar at the stern, and sculled a little. The boat moved very slowly forward.

”If we go six feet in an hour, how long will it take us to go seven miles?” propounded Eunice.

”Those questions are too difficult to be answered off-hand,” said Will, sculling in his turn. ”Sounds like Alice in Wonderland. If two boys eat a turkey at Thanksgiving, how many girls will eat a plum-pudding at Christmas?”

”I know a better one than that,” put in Archie. ”Two men set out simultaneously, at different times, on a journey, both being unable to travel. For two hours they kept ahead of each other, and then a snow-storm came up, and they both lost their way. Query: Which got there first?”

”How silly!” said Edna. ”How could they set out simultaneously, at different times, mamma?”

”That's the question for your deep brain, Miss Wiseacre,” said Archie.

”Perhaps you're equal to this. If three men work all day on a fertile farm, what is the logarithm?”

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