“Put down your spy-glass for a moment, and let me speak to you, Maria,” exclaimed Mrs. Butler in an exasperated voice.  “I never knew such a tongue as yours for clap, clap, clapping.  Did you say those two Bertram girls were going out alone with a man!  Well, I have known what to think for some time!  Alone on the water with a young man.  Surely, Maria, you must have made a mistake.”

“It’s just like you, Martha, you never believe in any one’s eyes but your own.  Here’s the glass, look for yourself.  If that isn’t a man, and a young man, and a stylish, handsome man, my name isn’t Maria Peters.”

“You’d be very glad if your name wasn’t Peters,” replied the irate sister.  “But I fear me there’s little likelihood of your changing it now.  Ah, here’s Beatrice Meadowsweet.  Good-morning, Bee, my dear.  How’s your dear mother?  Is her poor precious cough any better?”

“Come here, Bee,” said Miss Peters.  “Come over to the window this minute, and use your young eyes.  Who are those people in Dan Driver’s boat?  There, you tell Martha, she wont believe me.”

“Those are the Bertrams,” exclaimed Beatrice.

She put up her hand to shade her eyes, and took a long steadfast look over the shining water.

“Those are the Bertrams, and of course, their brother.”

“Oh, my dear Bee, how you have relieved me!” exclaimed Mrs. Butler.

She re-seated herself on a settee which stood near, and took her handkerchief to wipe out some wrinkles of anxiety from her stout face.

Beatrice stared in astonishment.

“I don’t quite understand,” she said.

“My dear!  I feared something improper was going on.  A young man, not a relation, out alone on the water with two girls!  That’s the kind of thing we don’t allow, in Northbury, Bee.  Now, what’s the matter?”

“Look,” said Beatrice, “look!  They are putting up the sail, and they are not doing it right.  They oughtn’t all three to stand up in the boat together.  It will capsize!  Oh, I must fly to them.  Good-bye, Mrs. Butler.  Mother would like to see you at tea, to-night.  Good-bye, Miss Peters.”

She rushed away, and the next moment was down on the quay.  Three moments later she was speeding with swift long strokes across the harbor in her own beautifully appointed row-boat.

Her dress was of dark blue serge, with white collar and cuffs.  Her hat was a simple sailor one.  The exercise brought the color into her cheeks, and her big somewhat pathetic gray eyes were bright.

“There she goes!” exclaimed Miss Peters.  “Never saw such a girl.  Doesn’t she handle her oars with a touch?  Oh, of course she is off to the rescue of those poor bunglers.  And I daresay they don’t think her good enough to speak to.”