"Couldn’t have been; she called ’Countess, Countess, Countess’, just how people call dogs, and that sort of person usually call dogs by that kind of name; and the dogs are usually big, fluffy ones which never do what they’re told. Oh, it was a dog right enough, I’m sure. Well, that’s all. It isn’t a very bright prospect is it, Midget?" "Not very," allowed Hughie; "what time is it, Pam?" Pamela, consulting a wristlet watch, said it was about twelve. It must be, she concluded, because her watch was a quarter to one. "I calculate it to be over half an hour fast towards the end of the week," she told him, "then I begin fresh on Sundays. It’s a bother, because you forget and are sure to be late for breakfast. However, it can’t be helped." "Don’t tell anybody I’m here," Hughie requested, finishing the chocolate and smoothing out the bag. Paper bags came in usefully at times. "Not Mother, do you mean? She may ask." "I don’t mind her, but not the others, Pam. It’s impossible to sew properly when people come bothering about and asking questions." Pamela promised, and departed light-footed. In the corridor she met her mother, who promptly asked where was her youngest son. "He’s all right, Mummy--sewing, in the cave," said Pamela, "and he doesn’t want anyone to know." "All right. _I_ shan’t tell," said Mrs. Romilly, smiling. Then she asked about the yawl, and the plans of the older pair about fetching her from Salterne. Pamela related what she knew, so far as it went. In a day or two the tide would serve better, as there would be a later ebb in the afternoon. "The fact is, Miss Chance would rather like to make a shopping expedition to Salterne the same day--and couldn’t she come back in the boat?" asked Mrs. Romilly, innocent of all this involved--as mothers so often are. The silence that ensued was so full of meaning, that Mrs. Romilly answered it as though her daughter had spoken. "I think, darling child, that you ought--all of you--to make things as nice for Miss Chance as you can. There are no regular lessons just now, because of Addie being sent home, and Crow finishing up at Easter; besides, it will soon be Whitsuntide now; but I think we ought to try and make it as pleasant for her as possible, don’t you? She is always most kind." "Oh, yes, awfully kind," agreed Pamela hastily, "but Mother, are you sure she likes going on the yawl? You know she’d be rather a responsibility for Addie and Crow; she doesn’t understand a boat, she stands on the gunwale and expects the boat to wait as if it were a stone step! She truly might get drowned rather easily, you know, and what _could_ they do, if she fell overboard?" "I see," murmured Mrs. Romilly thoughtfully, "yes, I see. Well, she might come back by train. I’ll talk to her about it. At the same time, if she really wishes to go by sea, I’m sure it will be all right."