Ford Foster thought the worst of it was when the afternoon train came in, and he had to show a pair of tired, moist and altogether unpleasant cousins to the room set apart for them.  Just after tea a note came over from Mrs. Kinzer, asking the Hart boys to join the yachting party next morning.

“The storm may not be over,” growled Ford.

“Oh,” said Annie, “Mrs. Kinzer adds that the weather will surely be fine after such a blow, and the bay will be quite safe and smooth.”

“Does she know the clerk of the weather,” asked Joe Hart.

“Got one of her own,” said Ford.

Fuz Hart laughed but said nothing.  Both he and his brother felt a little “strange” as yet, and were almost inclined to try and behave themselves.

When morning came, however, sea and earth and sky seemed to be the better for what they had just been through.  The grass and trees were greener and the bay seemed bluer, while the few clouds visible in the sky were very white and clean, as if all the storms had been washed out of them.  Not a single thing went wrong in Mrs. Kinzer’s management of the “setting out” of the party, and that was half the day now to begin with.  Ford had some trouble in getting Joe and Fuz up so very early, but an intimation that “Ham Morris wouldn’t wait five minutes for the Queen of England, or even me,” was sufficient to rouse them.

“Joe,” whispered Fuz, after they got on board, “are we to be gone a week?”

“Why?  What’s up?”

“Such piles of provisions as they’ve stowed away in that kennel!”

The bit of a water-tight cabin under the half-deck, at which Fuz pointed, was pretty well filled, beyond a doubt, but Mrs. Kinzer knew what she was about.  She had provided lunch for most of that party before, and the effect of the sea-air was also to be taken into account.

“Dab,” said Ford Foster, “you’ve forgotten to unhitch the ‘Jenny.’  Here she is, towing astern.”

“That’s all right.  We may need her.  She’s too heavy to take on board.”

A careful fellow was Mr. Hamilton Morris, and he knew very well the value of a row-boat to a picnic party.  As for Joe and Fuz they were compelled to overcome a strong inclination to cast the boat loose.  Such a joke it would have been, but Ham was in the way as long as he held the tiller.

The “Swallow” was “steady” enough to inspire even Annie Foster with a feeling of confidence, but Ford carefully explained to her the difference between slipping along over the little waves of the land-locked bay, and plunging into the great billows of the stormy Atlantic.

“I prefer this,” said Annie.

“But I wouldn’t have missed the other for anything,” replied Ford.  “Would you, Dick?”

Mr. Richard Lee had taken his full share in the work of starting, and had made himself singularly useful, but if all the rest had not been so busy they would have noticed his silence.  Hardly a word had he uttered, that anybody could remember, and, now he was forced to say something, his mouth opened slowly, as if he had never tried to speak before and was not quite sure he knew how: