“We must be a lovely sight!” said Bell.  “What a pity there is no one to see us!  What do you want, Jerry?”

“I want raspberry jam, chiefly,” said Gerald, “but first I want to make a speech.  I propose a sentiment.  Pledging the assembled company in this beaker of rich wine—.  Let go that bottle, Ferguson, or I’ll have your life! that’s my beaker, I tell you!  There! now you’ve upset it.  Attendez seulement bis ich dein tete abhaue!”

“Take the butter-dish,” said Bell.  “That will do just as well.”

“I pledge the assembled company in this rich butter,” Gerald continued with dignity, “though it is not so comfortable to drink, and I propose, first, the confusion of Ferguson, who is a pettifogger and an armadillo, and, secondly, the health of our captain, Roger, the Codger, who saved the Cheemaun.  Three cheers for the well-bred captain of the—­”

“Thank you so much!” said Roger, looking in through the window.  “Empty compliments are all very well, but I think I might have been asked to supper.”

He was hailed with a chorus of shouts, and stepping in through the window, drew up a stool and sat down by Hildegarde.

“What have you been doing, children?” he asked, looking round at the four, who had now arrived at the smoking stage of dampness, each sending up his little pillar of cloud.

Four eager voices told him of the search and the finding, and he smiled quietly as he helped himself to jam.

“I wonder what you took me for!” he said, “I truly wonder.  The boat went to bed at nine o’clock, with the rest of the children.  I beg your pardon, Miss Grahame,” he added, turning to Hildegarde with his kind, grave smile, “for naming you in company with this lawless crew of mine.”

“Oh, please,” cried Hildegarde, “I like to—­I wish I were—­” She stammered, and felt herself blushing in the furious way that makes a girl the most helpless creature in the world.  She would have given her hand, she thought, to keep back the tide that surged up over throat and cheek and brow.  “When there is nothing earthly to blush about, ninny!” she almost cried aloud.

But Bell came to the rescue.  “She wishes she were much wiser than the rest of us, Roger, but she doesn’t think she is, and I am really not so sure about it myself.  That is the best part of her:  she’s just a girl.”

“Just a girl!” said Roger, looking at Hildegarde; and he looked so kindly that poor Hildegarde blushed again.

CHAPTER XII.

A-sailing we will go.

“Friends,” said Mrs. Merryweather, “the day is before us.  What is the plan of action?”

“I go a-fishing,” said Roger; “and with me Willy, to take his first lesson in bass-fishing.”

“I tinker the wharf,” said Phil; “and with me Obadiah, to take his first lesson in useful occupation.”

“Verily and in good sooth,” put in Gerald, “the most useful occupation I can think of, my peripatetic food-absorber, would be to heave thee into the glassy deep.”