“Well, it remains to be seen what the day will bring forth,” said Uncle Charley; “but in the meantime we’ll get aboard.”

The laughing crowd piled themselves on board the big schooner, stowed away all the baskets and bundles, and settled themselves comfortably in various parts of the boat; some sat in the stern, others climbed to the top of the cabin, while others preferred the bow, and one or two adventurous spirits clambered out to the end of the long bowsprit and sat with their feet dangling above the water.  Ethelyn gave some affected little cries of horror at this, but Frank Elliott reassured her by telling her that it was always a part of the performance.

“Why, I have seen your dignified cousin Patty do it; in fact, she generally festoons herself along the edge of the boat in some precarious position.”

“Don’t do it to-day, will you, Patty?” besought Ethelyn, with a ridiculous air of solicitude.

“No, I won’t,” said Patty; “I’ll be real good and do just as you want me to.”

“Noble girl!” said Kenneth Harper.  “I know how hard it is for you to be good.”

“It is, indeed,” said Patty, laughing; “and I insist upon having due credit.”

As a rule the Vernondale parties were exciting affairs.  The route was down the river to the sound; from the sound to the bay; and, if the day were very favourable, out into the ocean, and perhaps around Staten Island.

Patty had hoped for this most extended trip today, in order that Ethelyn and Reginald might see a sailing party at its very best.

But after they had been on board an hour they had covered only the few miles of river, and found themselves well out into the sound, but with no seeming prospect of going any farther.  The breeze had died away entirely, and as the sun rose higher the heat was becoming decidedly uncomfortable.

Ethelyn began to fidget.  Her pretty white serge frock had come in contact with some muddy ropes and some oily screws, and several unsightly spots were the result.  This made her cross, for she hated to have her costume spoiled so early in the day; and besides she was unpleasantly conscious that her fair complexion was rapidly taking on a deep shade of red.  She knew this was unbecoming, but when Reginald, with brotherly frankness, informed her that her nose looked like a poppy bud, she lost her temper and relapsed into a sulky fit.

“I don’t see any fun in a sailing party, if this is one,” she said.

“Oh, this isn’t one,” said Guy Morris good-humoredly; “this is just a first-class fizzle.  We often have them, and though they’re not as much fun as a real good sailing party, yet we manage to get a good time out of them some way.”

“I don’t see how,” said Ethelyn, who was growing very ill-tempered.

“We’ll show you,” said Frank Elliott kindly; “there are lots of things to do on board a boat besides sail.”

There did seem to be, and notwithstanding the heat and the sunburn—­yes, even the mosquitoes—­those happy-go-lucky young people found ways to have a real good time.  They sang songs and told stories and jokes, and showed each other clever little games and tricks.  One of the boys had a camera and he took pictures of the whole crowd, both singly and in groups.  Mr. Hepworth drew caricature portraits, and Kenneth Harper gave some of his funny impersonations.