“Would you like to take the helm, Miss Hilda?” asked Roger.

Hilda thanked him with a glance, and took her place at the tiller in silence.

“Oh, Professor Merryweather! are you really going to trust us to Hilda’s steering?  I am sure, now, you think girls are too ignorant to know anything about that sort of thing.  I wonder at you!  Our lives may not be of much consequence, because, of course, we are only silly little girls, but to risk your own life so, really, I am surprised.”

She paused for the compliment that should follow, but Roger only said, “Bear away, please!” and loosened the sheet a little.

“Did your ears burn yesterday, Professor Merryweather?  I am sure they must have.  Everybody was talking about you at the hotel, and they said you had done something so remarkable,—­something about a prism, wasn’t it?  You remember, Hilda, all the prisms on the chandeliers at Madame Haut Ton’s!  Do yours go on a chandelier, Professor Merryweather?”

“Not exactly!” said Roger.  “You have a large party at Pollock’s, I believe, Miss Everton?  I think I heard the Sinclairs say they were to be there this month.”

“Oh, aren’t the Sinclairs enchanting?” cried Madge, with effusion.  “And isn’t Jack simply delicious?  I danced with him ten times last night, and each dance was better than the last.  Professor Merryweather, I shall give you no peace till you promise to come over for the next hop.”

“We are not to expect peace in this world, are we?” said Roger, smiling.  “Steady, Miss Grahame! as you are!”

“I think nautical terms are too delicious!” cried Madge.  “And that reminds me, Hilda, Grace Atherleigh has just come back from Europe.  She has been away three years, you know; in Paris most of the time,—­dear Paris!  Don’t you adore it, Professor Merryweather?  And she has brought back forty-three dresses.  Yes, my dear, it is true, for I had it from her aunt, Mrs. Gusham.  Forty-three dresses, all made this spring.  And she had the most horrible time at the custom-house—­”

“Madge,” said Hildegarde, as patiently as she could, “will you please wait for the stories till we get back to the wharf?  I must attend to the steering, and I cannot listen at the same time.”

“My dear, I am dumb!  I only just want to tell you before I forget it—­you know what a wretched memory I have—­what happened—­”

“Luff!” said Roger, suddenly.  “Luff, child, Luff!”

Startled and confused, Hildegarde tried to do as she was told, but, in her distress, did exactly the opposite, and bore away; a grating sound was heard:  the boat slid forward a few feet and stopped short.

“Oh, what have I done?” cried poor Hilda.

“Nothing of consequence!  We have run on a shoal, that is all.  Sit steady, please, ladies!”

Roger was overboard in an instant, up to his waist in water, pushing at the boat.  Hilda sat dumb and scarlet, and even Madge was subdued for the time, and murmured exclamations under her breath.  It was only a moment; a few vigorous shoves set the Keewaydin afloat again, and Roger leaped lightly in.