“Thave me!” wailed Tommy.  “The boat may be all right, but think of being drowned in a name like that!  Now, if it wath ’The Queen of the Theath,’ or thome thuch name ath that, I thouldn’t so much mind being drowned in her, but ’The Thithter Thue’—­thave uth!”

“You are not going to drown at all,” laughed Miss Elting, “so don’t begin to lay any plans in that direction.”

“When is the boat coming here, Daddy?” questioned Jane.

“To-morrow morning early, if they have her ready in time.  I told the owner to slap some new clothes on her, and make her presentable by to-morrow, sure.  How do you like the idea, girls?”

“Oh, it’s just too glorious for anything,” cried Margery, now awakened to the possibilities of having a sailboat of their very own.  Tommy regarded her quizzically, opened her mouth to speak, then closed her lips.

“What is it, dear?” questioned Miss Elting.

“It ith nothing now.  Maybe I’ll thay it when we get to thea, provided Buthter doeth not thay it for me.”

“See here!  We have forgotten all about that buried treasure,” exclaimed Mr. McCarthy, at his ease once more after having escaped from the table.  “Will you show me, Tommy?”

“No, thir.  That ith a dark thecret.”

“What, girls keep a secret?” scoffed the visitor.

“Don’t you think they can?” demanded Tommy, squinting at him with one eye tightly closed.

“Never saw one that could.”

“Then pleathe look at me.”

“By the way, Mr. McCarthy,” called Mrs. Livingston, “did you mention the name of our new captain, the one who owns and sails the boat?”

“That’s so.  I reckon I forgot that.  He is known as Captain Bill.  His real name, I believe, is Cummings.”

“You are quite sure that he is all right, are you, Mr. McCarthy?”

“Has a reputation second to none among the Portsmouth skippers.  I took care of that, knowing you were a lot of lone women and girls down here.  I didn’t see him personally.  Took my friend Lawyer Roberts’s word for it, and what else I could pick up about the docks,” added Mr. McCarthy.  “But I must be thinking about getting back.”

“Surely, Daddy, you are never going to think of walking back, are you?”

“Not I. I hear an automobile coming.  I’m just going to get out to the road and beg a ride.  They’ll be keeping along on this road for at least ten miles and I can walk the rest of the way in, if I have to.  In case I do not see you again, Mrs. Livingston, here’s good-bye and good luck.  I hope you all have a fine time with the boat.  If that skipper doesn’t obey orders, day or night, get a telegram to me instantly, and I’ll bounce him right off.  But don’t let Jane send any telegrams.  She’ll break me, she’s so long-winded—­”

“Which I inherited,” finished Crazy Jane.  “Come on, girls; let’s go out to the highway and see Dad off.  We may have to watch him start off on foot.”