"Not quite; I wish you wouldn't; only don't stay to take care of me." Edward looked a good deal vexed and annoyed. "Mrs. Perkins," he said, turning to her, "if Fred were here, would you object to his going?" "No, not at all. I should leave him to follow his own inclination. But," as Edward turned triumphantly to Violet, "I am not meaning to encourage you to go, if your sister thinks your mother might object: all mothers do not see alike, you know." "Well," he said, "I imagine I am as competent a judge of that as Violet is. I feel well-nigh certain that she would bid me go and enjoy myself. She's not one of the fussy kind of mothers who are afraid to let their children stir out of their sight." "Then you will go?" said Mr. Tallis. "Yes," Edward answered, resolutely avoiding Violet's pleading looks. "I wish we could persuade your sister," Mr. Tallis said, turning to her. "Are you timid about venturing on the sea, Miss Travilla?" "Not particularly," she said, coloring slightly. "Then do come with us! the more the merrier, you know, and I should be so happy. I do not feel quite comfortable to carry off all the rest of your party and leave you alone." The girls joined their entreaties to his, but Violet was firm in her resolution to remain on shore. Then Mary offered to stay with her, but as Violet felt convinced that it would involve a sacrifice on her cousin's part, she would not consent. They now all hastened back to the cottage to make such preparations as might be needful. It was not much to any of them, as they expected to return the next day or the one following. "Edward, can I be of any assistance to you?" Violet asked, going to the door of his room. "Yes, if you like to pack this valise. Maybe you would do it better than I. I'm alone, so come in." Violet accepted the invitation, and did the little service quite to his satisfaction. "You are a nice, handy girl, if I do say it that shouldn't," he remarked laughingly. "But what's the matter?" as he saw that her eyes were full of tears. "O Edward, don't go away vexed with me!" she exclaimed, putting an arm around his neck. "Suppose a storm should come up, and--and we should never see each other again." The last words came with an irrepressible burst of tears and sobs. The loving young heart was sore from recent bereavement, and ready to fear for all its dear ones. "Come, don't fret about possibilities," he said, kindly. "I'm not vexed now, and you must forgive me for calling you selfish." "You don't think I am?" "No, indeed! but just the darlingest little sister ever a fellow had. I shouldn't like--if anything should happen--to have you remember that as one of the last things I had said to you. No, I was the selfish one. Now good-bye, and don't worry about me," he said, holding her close, and kissing her several times; "you know, Vi dear, that we are under the same protecting care on sea and on land."