Here Etheridge came up. The implacably clear light which comes from a broad expanse of sea was revealing every minute line in Mrs. Franklin's delicate face. "How wrinkled she looks!" was his self-congratulatory thought. "Even fifteen years ago she was finished--done!" Then he added, aloud: "I think I'll accompany you, if you _are_ going out again. The afternoon promises to be endlessly long here, with nothing to do but gawp for sea-beans, or squawk poetry!" This strenuous description of some of the amusements already in progress on the beach showed that, in the commodore's plans, something had gone wrong. "Are you really going, commodore?" asked Mrs. Franklin. "Then I'll put Ruth in your charge." "Put me in it, too," said Dolly. "I should much rather sail than sit here." "Oh no, Dolly. You never can take that walk to the landing a second time so soon," said the mother. And so it proved. Dolly started. But, after a few steps, she had to give it up. "I should think _you_ would like to go, His Grand?" she suggested. "I can't. I have promised to see to the chowder," answered Mrs. Franklin. "Sailing and sea-beans and poetry are all very well. But I have noticed that every one grows gloomy when the chowder is bad!" Etheridge, Ruth, and Walter Willoughby, therefore, recrossed the island and embarked. The commodore took the helm. "What boat is that ahead of us?" asked Walter. "Some of our people? Has any one else deserted the sea-beans?" "I dare say," replied Etheridge, carelessly. The commodore could manage a boat extremely well; the _Owl and the Pussycat_ flew after that sail ahead, in a line as straight as a plummet. "Why, it's Mrs. Kip," said Ruth, as they drew nearer. She had recognized the gypsy hat in the other boat. "Yes, with Albert Tillotson," added Walter. "What, that donkey?" inquired Etheridge, with well-feigned surprise (and an anger that required no feigning). "He can no more manage a boat than I can manage a comet! Poor Mrs. Kip is in actual danger of her life. The idea of that Tom Noddy of a Tillotson daring to take her out! I must run this boat up alongside, Mr. Willoughby, and get on board immediately. Common humanity requires it." "The commodore's common humanity is uncommonly like jealousy," said Walter to Ruth when the _Owl_ had dropped behind again after this manoeuvre had been successfully executed. "He is a clever old fellow! Of course he knew she was out, and he came with us on purpose. We'll keep near them, Mrs. Chase, and watch their faces; it will be as good as a play." To his surprise, Ruth, who was generally so ready to laugh, did not pay heed to this. "I am glad he has gone," she said; "for now we need not talk--just sail and sail! Let us go over so far--straight down towards the south." Her eyes had a dreamy expression which was new to him. "What next!" thought her companion. He glanced furtively at his watch. "I can keep on for half an hour more, I suppose."