A sudden strange inspiration came to Pamela in that desperate moment. Desperate, because Crow had backed her up and fought her battle right through--she could not bear this last misunderstanding. "Crow," she said, leaning forward; her voice shook a little, and her eyes looked suspiciously limpid--"Crow--do you mind my saying something--about it?" "Why should I?" "Don’t say anything to Mother, yet. Take it to Miss Anne." "_Miss Anne_--Little Pilgrim?" Christobel checked her work, and gazed back startled. "Why?" "I can’t tell you why--but do. I am sure it would be the best thing to do." The elder girl considered this, not with much sympathy it seemed; then she said: "Oh well, perhaps. I don’t know. Anyway, we may as well put lunch; Addie is awfully hungry." So it passed, with a very heavy cloud left behind to darken the clear holiday sky! Lunch was eaten and greatly enjoyed by Adrian. The two girls using a self-control such as only girls know how to call up when necessary, Addie saw no difference in either--but they saw it--in each other. Then came the arrival at Peterock, the smart picking up of moorings, the convenient man doing nothing in a large clinker-built boat close by, with a pipe between his teeth, willing for a consideration to "oblige" and give advice. Then the three went ashore with the afternoon before them, and to make it all more complete they decided to have tea at a gay and joyous tea-shop on the biggest esplanade, and start for home about five-thirty or six; even so with such a wind and the splendid flow-tide they would have ample time. Adrian had his hair cut, while the girls--more or less constrained--looked into shop windows. When they met again Christobel said she did not like the idea of waiting so long in the town, "suppose the wind dropped"--it was lighter. Adrian was disappointed, but he realized that they were not allowing themselves much time for possible accidents. "Let’s get off at four--about--and have tea on board," said Crow. As a matter of fact the "snap" in the day had gone out for her since that odd conversation with Pamela. "_Tell_ you what we’ll do," cried Adrian suddenly, as a new move occurred. He loved new moves. "We’ll get off about four; we’ll sail down to the cove this side Bell Ridge--you know Champles Creek. We’ll drop anchor there and have tea on shore. We shall be home then practically, as we’ve only got Bell Ridge between us and the bay, and can walk over if the worst comes to the worst." "Why should there be any ’worst’?" asked Crow, not quite convinced. "No reason, but one ought to have a bolt hole--always. All wild animals do, and their instincts are--hullo, there’s old Timothy Batt--Peterock day, I suppose." Timothy Batt’s "van" was drawn up at the curb, bulging with parcels of all shapes. He sat under the canvas hood, while people in shops came out and handed him more things. He was very well known.