“They’re roasting oysters,” said Mrs. Carteret.  “I wish you’d bring me some, Mr. Ellis.”

Ellis strolled down to the beach.  A large iron plate, with a turned-up rim like a great baking-pan, supported by legs which held it off the ground, was set over a fire built upon the sand.  This primitive oven was heaped with small oysters in the shell, taken from the neighboring sound, and hauled up to the hotel by a negro whose pony cart stood near by.  A wet coffee-sack of burlaps was spread over the oysters, which, when steamed sufficiently, were opened by a colored man and served gratis to all who cared for them.

Ellis secured a couple of plates of oysters, which he brought to Mrs. Carteret and Clara; they were small, but finely flavored.

Meanwhile Delamere, who possessed a remarkable faculty of recuperation from the effects of drink, had waked from his sleep, and remembering his engagement, had exerted himself to overcome the ravages of the afternoon’s debauch.  A dash of cold water braced him up somewhat.  A bottle of seltzer and a big cup of strong coffee still further strengthened his nerves.

When Ellis returned to the veranda, after having taken away the plates, Delamere had joined the ladies and was explaining the cause of his absence.

He had been overcome by the heat, he said, while out fishing, and had been lying down ever since.  Perhaps he ought to have sent for a doctor, but the fellows had looked after him.  He hadn’t sent word to his friends because he hadn’t wished to spoil their evening.

“That was very considerate of you, Tom,” said Mrs. Carteret dryly, “but you ought to have let us know.  We have been worrying about you very much.  Clara has found the evening dreadfully dull.”

“Indeed, no, sister Olivia,” said the young lady cheerfully, “I’ve been having a lovely time.  Mr. Ellis and I have been up in the parlor; I played the piano; and we’ve been eating oysters and having a most delightful time.  Won’t you take me down there to the beach, Mr. Ellis?  I want to see the fires.  Come on.”

“Can’t I go?” asked Tom jealously.

“No, indeed, you mustn’t stir a foot!  You must not overtax yourself so soon; it might do you serious injury.  Stay here with sister Olivia.”

She took Ellis’s arm with exaggerated cordiality.  Delamere glared after them angrily.  Ellis did not stop to question her motives, but took the goods the gods provided.  With no very great apparent effort, Miss Pemberton became quite friendly, and they strolled along the beach, in sight of the hotel, for nearly half an hour.  As they were coming up she asked him abruptly,—­

“Mr. Ellis, did you know Tom was in the hotel?”

Ellis was looking across the sound, at the lights of a distant steamer which was making her way toward the harbor.

“I wonder,” he said musingly, as though he had not heard her question, “if that is the Ocean Belle?”