Part 32 (2/2)

”Guess this rebus,” said Cricket, presenting a paper on which she had been drawing for a moment. There was a capital letter B,--a very wild and inebriated looking letter it was, too,--and beside it was another B, with beautiful, regular curves, lying flat on its back.

”It's one word,” hinted Cricket.

”'How doth the little busy B Improve each s.h.i.+ning hour,'”

suggested Auntie Jean, instantly.

”No, that's good, but it isn't right; it's what we are now.”

”B-calmed,” said Archie. ”And you're right. That B needed calming badly, you little Gloriana McQuirk.” For every separate hair of Cricket's curly crop, having been wet in her involuntary bath, and afterward rubbed dry, stood out in a separate and distinct curl from all the others, making a veritable halo around her head.

”This is the way you look, Cricket,” said Archie, seizing a pencil, and in a moment his clever fingers had drawn a head in which nothing was to be seen save a very wide smile, and a cloud of hair.

”I look very well, then,” said Cricket, calmly. ”It's like all those pictures in papa's 'Paradise Lost,' where the angels all have halos, you know. It would be very convenient to have a halo, really, wouldn't it, auntie? A saint could fry his own eggs right on his halo, for instance, if he wanted to, couldn't he?”

”That _would_ be a practical use for a halo,” laughed auntie. ”And that brings up a suggestion of more lunch. Let us eat up the fragments. It's five o'clock.”

”And here's a bit of a breeze coming,” said Will, suddenly, wetting his finger, and holding it up. ”Whoop-la! She's coming! Let's give her the call!” And all the vigorous young lungs joined in a wild salute of ”Wah-who-wah! wah-who-wah! Come, little breezes! wah-who-wah!”

”I'll stop sculling, and eat in comfort now,” said Will, s.h.i.+pping his oar, and taking a sandwich. ”She's safe to come, now.”

And the breeze did not belie his confidence, for in ten minutes more the sail began to flap, and then to fill. The boat instantly responded, and Archie took the helm. The breeze steadily freshened, and in two minutes more the _Gentle Jane_ was skimming along like a bird. And so, not long after six, they landed at the dock.

CHAPTER XX.

A NEW HIDING-PLACE.

The four girls were in an unusually energetic frame of mind the next day, owing to so many hours confinement on the sailboat.

”Let's do something wild to-day,” said Cricket, at the breakfast-table.

”I'd like to ride a crazy horse.”

”Are you tired of this world?” asked Will. ”If you are, I'll go and borrow Mr. Gates's Josephus,--his new horse. He's only half broken, and that's the wrong half.”

”Cricket, I put my foot down on your doing anything of the kind,” said auntie, in alarm, not feeling at all sure of Cricket. ”Remember you're strictly forbidden to mount anything but Mopsie.”

”And the sawhorse?” broke in Archie.

”Yes, I'll except the sawhorse,” conceded his mother.

”Why, auntie, I rode Columbus all around the field, bareback, the other day,” said Cricket. ”I didn't know you didn't want me to.”

”_Columbus!_ you crazy child! He's not at all safe even for a man to ride him. Understand, my dear, that's tabooed.”

”Oh, auntie!” cried Cricket, clasping her hands, tragically, ”If you've any filial affection for me, you won't say that! I do so love to ride a horse bareback. Mopsie is dear, but I like something _fiercer_.”

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