“I don’t want you to go,” Lettice persisted. “I don’t want you out of my sight.” James laughed. “You’re funny, sis. I can’t help laughing at you. A minute ago you were so fierce and valiant, and now you’re weeping and going on like a baby.” “But you’re all wet,” sobbed Lettice. “Suppose I am? That’s nothing; and on a hot afternoon, too. I have often been as wet as this when I’ve been out ducking, and when it was a good bit colder. Come, sit up here and help me. We shall have to tack across, for the wind has died down.” “You are sure you are not hurt at all?” said Lettice, drying her eyes. “No, not a bit. I look rather the worse for wear, that is all.” “It was so awful to see them dragging you off,” and Lettice burst into tears again. “They didn’t drag me very far, did they? Thanks to my little soldier girl of a sister. There, honey, don’t cry any more; we’re nearly home.” And he hugged and petted her till, by the time they reached their own landing, she had somewhat calmed down. But as James led her up the steps to her sister Betty, she lapsed again into a woful state, and it required the combined efforts of Mammy, Dorcas, Lutie, and Betty to quiet her; for one minute she would burst into wild laughter as she looked at Lutie, and would say, “She looked so funny standing there threatening to chop off their heads like chickens,” and then she would fall to weeping because it was so awful to see them dragging off her brother. At last, under the combined effects of red lavender, salts, and finally a mint-julep, she fell asleep. “I don’t trust you off this place again without me,” said Betty, bending over the exhausted little figure and kissing the white forehead around which damp curls clustered. And with Mammy to fan her on one side, and Lutie on the other, she was left in the quiet of her own room. James hurried off his wet clothes, donned another suit, and springing upon his horse, galloped across country to the landing, arriving just in time to see the packet come in, and to welcome his aunt and Rhoda. A flush mounted to his face when he saw in attendance Mr. Robert Clinton. “I don’t see what they needed me for,” he muttered. “Mr. Clinton surprised us by arriving from Philadelphia last night,” Rhoda told him. “My father was not willing that I should come down here, he sent word.” “But you came. Why?” “Because it is my duty to remain with my aunt, and I cannot let my personal convenience stand in the way of duty,” replied Rhoda, a little primly. “And Mr. Clinton came because it was his duty, or because you did, which?” said James, in a vexed tone. “My father would have it so. When he learned that I intended to remain with Aunt Martha, he said that he should prefer that we have the protection of either Mr. Clinton or himself, and since his affairs did not permit of his presence here just now, he sent Mr. Clinton.” “I see.” James looked at her fixedly, and she looked down, blushing faintly.