“I am afraid so, too, and I think you would all be safer and more at ease down in the country. I think, Martha, you had better take the girls and go down to Sylvia’s Ramble as soon as you can get off.” “And leave you?” “I am safe enough; at least, if need comes, you know what I shall do.” Mrs. Hopkins sighed and shook her head. “At all events,” continued Mr. Hopkins, “you all will be better off in the country, and I will come down as soon as I can feel free to do so.” Then Lettice dried her eyes, and while Rhoda was protesting that she could not go away in the absence of her father, Mr. Kendall walked in. CHAPTER III. _On the Bay._ The curiously indented shore of the Chesapeake Bay presents a country so full of little rivers and inlets that it is oftener easier to cut across a narrow channel by boat than to drive from one place to another. Especially is this true of the Eastern shore: in consequence, the dwellers thereon are as much at home on the water as on the land, and are famous sailors. This Rhoda soon discovered, and was filled with amazement to find that Lettice could manage a sailing vessel nearly as well as could her brothers. It was much against Rhoda’s will that she finally made ready to accompany her aunt and Lettice to the country. Her father informed her that he must return to Washington, and though she begged to be allowed to go with him, he said she would be better off in the hands of her aunt, and he would join her at Sylvia’s Ramble a little later. Mr. Tom Hopkins’s plantation lay next to his brother’s. The two formed part of an original tract granted by Lord Baltimore to an ancestor of the Hopkins family. Part of the land lay along the bay, and one or two small creeks ran up from the larger body of water, so that when one approached the houses, it seemed as if a vessel must be moored in the back yard, for tall spars shot up behind the chimneys, seemingly out of a mass of green. Rhoda’s puzzled look upon being told that their destination was the next place made Lettice ask what was wrong. “What in the world is it that looks so curious?” said Rhoda. “Aunt Martha tells me that the house is the next one, and surely that is a vessel behind it? Do you use ships for barns?” Lettice laughed. “You will see when we get there. We don’t land in the creek. Uncle Tom has a landing this side, on the bay shore. Just there it is.” Their little sailing vessel was gliding in, having passed Kent Island on the left. The fresh breeze had brought them down in a comparatively short time, and Lettice was soon scanning the small wharf to see who stood to meet them. “There’s Brother James,” she cried; “and I do believe it is Patsey Ringgold herself, Cousin Joe. Yes, there she sits on her white horse.” And almost before the boat had touched the sands, Lettice was ashore, crying: “Howdy, Brother James! Howdy, Patsey. Here we are, safe and sound, and so glad to get here.”