“Oh, of course you did,” said Launcelot, shortly, “and of course he went, he’s a nice sort of sailor.”

“I’m not going to be a sailor,” Tommy announced, sulkily.  “I’m going home—­”

“Right-o,” agreed Lancelot, “and the quicker the better.”

“Miss Judy,” came a sepulchral voice from the boat, “Miss Judy, we thought you were drownded.”

“Oh, Perkins,” cried Judy, “is that you, Perkins?”

“What’s left of me, Miss,” and Perkins’ bald head came into view as he stood up in the boat.

Judy and Tommy climbed in, amid excited questions and explanations, which presently settled into a continuous monotone of complaint from Tommy.  “I’m half-starved.  Haven’t you anything to eat, Perkins?”

Now Tommy grated on Perkins’ nerves.  The old butler had always been treated by the Jamesons with the gentle consideration due his age and long and faithful service, in the light of which Tommy’s dictation seemed nothing less than impertinent.

And so it came about that Judy was served with good things first, while Tommy was made to wait.

“Oh, Perkins, can’t you hurry,” growled the small rude boy.

And then Judy turned on him.  “You may be hungry, Tommy,” she blazed, “but don’t speak to Perkins that way again.”

“Oh, Miss,” deprecated Perkins, although in his old heart he was glad of her defense.

“Perkins has been out all night hunting for us,” Judy’s voice quivered, “and—­and—­he is just as tired as we are, Tommy Tolliver.”

But Tommy had his sandwich, and blissfully munching it, cared little for Judy’s reproof.  After he had finished he went to sleep comfortably in the bottom of the boat, his troubles forgotten.

There was about Launcelot and Perkins an air of subdued excitement that finally attracted Judy’s attention.

“What’s the matter with you all?” she asked, curiously, as she looked up suddenly from her pile of comfortable cushions, and caught Perkins smiling at Launcelot over her head.

“Oh, nothing, Miss, nothing at all,” coughed Perkins.

“Has anything happened?”

Launcelot, who was steering, smiled down at her.

“Miss Curiosity,” he teased.

“I’m not curious.  I just want to know.”

“Oh, well, that’s one way to put it.”

“Tell me.  Has anything happened?”

“Yes.”

“What?”

“Something splendid.”

Judy sat up.  “Tell me,” she begged.

But Launcelot was inflexible.  “Not now,” and Judy sank back with a sigh, for she was getting to know that when the big boy said a thing he meant it.

“When will I know?” she asked after a while.

“When you get to The Breakers.”

“Oh.”

She was silent for a little, then she said: 

“I know you think it was awful for me to run away with Tommy—­”

“It would have been better if you had sent him home.”