In the afternoon he walked along to fetch Mrs. Rosewarne and her daughter, his face bright with expectation.  Mrs. Rosewarne was dressed and ready when he went in, but she said, “I am afraid I can’t go, Mr. Trelyon.  Wenna says she is a little tired, and would rather stay at home.”

“Wenna, that isn’t fair,” he said, obviously hurt.  “You ought to make some little effort when you know it will do your mother good.  And it will do you good too, if only you make up your mind to go.”

She hesitated for a moment:  she saw that her mother was disappointed.  Then, without a word, she went and put on her hat and shawl.

“Well,” he said approvingly, “you are very reasonable and very obedient.  But we can’t have you go with us with such a face as that.  People would say we were going to a funeral.”

A shy smile came over the gentle features, and she turned aside.

“And we can’t have you pretend that we forced you to go.  If we go at all, you must lead the way.”

“You would tease the life out of a saint,” she said with a vexed and embarrassed laugh; and then she marched out before them, very glad to be able to conceal her heightened color.

But much of her reserve vanished when they had set sail; and when the small cutter was beginning to make way through the light and plashing waves Wenna’s face brightened.  She no longer let her two companions talk exclusively to each other.  She began to show a great curiosity about the little yacht; she grew anxious to have the lines flung out; no words of hers could express her admiration for the beauty of the afternoon and of the scene around her.

“Now, are you glad you came out?” he said to her.

“Yes,” she answered shyly.  “And you’ll take my advice another time?”

“Do you ever take any one’s advice?” she said, venturing to look up.

“Yes, certainly,” he answered, “when it agrees with my own inclination.  Who ever does any more than that?”

They had now got a good bit away from land.

“Skipper,” said Trelyon to Mr. Grainger’s man, “we’ll put her about now and let her drift.  Here is a cigar for you:  you can take it up to the bow and smoke it, and keep a good lookout for the sea-serpent.”

By this arrangement they obtained, as they sat and idly talked, an excellent view of all the land around the bay, and of the pale, clear sunset shining in the western skies.  They lay almost motionless in the lapping water:  the light breeze scarcely stirred the loose canvas.  From time to time they could hear a sound of calling or laughing from the distant fishing-boats; and that only seemed to increase the silence around them.