“Ye’ll not be doin’ no sich thing,” shrieked our domestic.  “They be plenty sickness already in th’ Cove, an’ Doctor not back yet.  Ye’ll jist take yer coffee as is waitin’ fer ye, an’ not be goin’ ter see illness on a empty stummick.  An’ Captain he’ve been round ter say they is still quite a jobble of a sea outside but he can make it fine, and he’ve steam up.  So it’s good-by to th’ Cove this fine marnin.’”

“Yes,” I said hurriedly.  “We’re off just as soon as we’ve had breakfast and the men have moved everything down to the yacht.  It is a corking fine day, and as we’re all proof against sea-sickness we’ve got nothing to worry over.  Of course you’re all played out after that nursing all night, and are a foolish girl, but I suppose one can’t keep women away from those jobs.  Sit right down and have your breakfast.”

“I’ll have to see that child before we leave, Daddy,” she said, “and—­and—­and then I will be all ready.”

She spoke in such a queer way that I was positively alarmed.  I am sure I have never seen her look like that.

“What’s the matter?” I asked her.  “You speak in such a weary, discouraged way that you must be getting ill.  You have simply tired yourself to death over that boy of Frenchy’s.  By George!  But I’ll be glad when we get away from this place!”

And then the minx looked at me, just as sweetly as ever, and her voice had that little caressing tone of hers.

“Don’t worry, dear Daddy, I’ll have plenty of rest at sea,” she told me.

So we had our breakfast, very pleasantly, and I was thanking my stars that all our troubles would be over in no time, little thinking that they were just beginning.  So I rose, and took my stout cane, very proud of showing the population how nicely I could walk, and went out on the porch, ready to go on board the yacht.  The men were coming up to get our baggage and the furniture we had taken from the Snowbird, and Susie was ready to boss them.  Then Helen, who had run upstairs, came down and joined me.

“I’ll help you down the road, Daddy,” she said, “and after that I’ll run back to Frenchy’s.  I hear that Mr. Barnett went off somewhere in the middle of the night, so as to return in time to see us off.  He will be back soon, and an hour or so won’t matter, will it?  The Snowbird doesn’t run on a schedule, Dad.”

I looked at my watch, it was a quarter to nine.

“We’re off by ten,” I said.  “First thing I know we won’t get away till afternoon if I listen to you another minute.”

We had gone but a very little way down the road, which is nothing but a deplorable sort of goat-path or gutter running down the side of the hill, when we saw Dr. Grant coming down from Sammy’s house, and the old fisherman was remonstrating with him.  My dear Jennie, it gave me the shock of my life!  The young man was actually staggering, and I immediately decided that he was drunker than a whole batch of lords.