He turned over on his back, and splashed mocking heels at her, then started off homeward; and when the Countess pulled the boat inshore he was there first, and, running in, seized the painter. "Get out, Madam," he requested, "and help pull the boat up; you are too heavy for me to drag, and the tide’s coming up pretty fast." [Illustration: "GET OUT, MADAM."] His tone was absolutely polite, at the same time the Countess had seldom felt less happy. He was so small, and so good-tempered over it all! She certainly felt rather like a "full-sized idiot"! The dinghy was secured, Hughie fixing the anchor between two rocks. The whole valley was wrapped in thick grey haze, but there was no light. The east being behind the high Downs made morning late in Bell Bay. The Countess looked on at Hughie’s efforts; then she said, almost against her will: "You are very wet." "Well, one is when one’s been in the sea; you can’t help it." The girl coloured, but she pursued amicable tactics. "I hope you will not catch cold." "Oh, thanks," said Hughie, and he looked at her so expressively that she could not fail to remember it was her fault that he was wet. "You’d better come through our garden," he went on; "it’s shorter. I expect you know the way all right." "I did not pass through your grounds," said the Countess quickly; "I came along the road," she pointed in the direction of Crown Hill lodge. "How do you get out of Woodrising without the people knowing?" asked Hughie, as they climbed the beach among the rocks. "You have no business to ask," said the Countess haughtily. Hughie looked at her sideways. "I think you are awfully funny; you’d amuse anybody," he declared thoughtfully. "Amuse--I!" "Yes, there you go again. You do such ridiculous things, and when people can’t help smiling you cut up rough. You look like Pam on the outside--except your face," went on Hughie critically; "but you aren’t a patch on Pam really--she’s a sport." "’Sport’, how? Does she shoot then? I can shoot," said the Countess sharply. It was plain she did not wish to be thought inferior to Pamela. "Can you, oh--that’s all right. No, I meant Pam was awfully decent; she plays the game always." "You English think of games and nothing else," said the Countess scornfully. "My father had a little gun made for me, and I could kill when I was--oh--as small as you." "I’m seven," said Hughie, "and a good bit of eight as well." There was a pause as they passed through the gate on to the terrace walk; the house was visible now, looking large and sleeping, with its shuttered eyes. "We’d better walk on the grass, because of gravel noises," advised Hughie. "I shouldn’t make it, but you do. And look here, it’s no use you trying to get on the yawl again, because she’ll be locked up." "Why?" "I shall tell Addie to lock her. He’ll see the dinghy has been shifted; he’s simply bound to."