The occupants of the boat seemed to know exactly how to behave in these circumstances. Mrs. Elliott and the girls of the party went down into the little cabin, which held them all, but which was very crowded. Guy Morris took command, and the other boys, and men, too, for that matter, did exactly as he told them. Ethelyn began to cry. This was really not surprising, as the girl had never before had such an experience and was exceedingly nervous as well as very much frightened. Mrs. Elliott appreciated this, and putting her arm around the sobbing child, comforted her with great tact and patience. The storm passed as quickly as it came. There had been danger, both real and plentiful, but no bad results attended, except that everybody was more or less wet with the rain. The boys were more and the girls less, but to Ethelyn's surprise, they all seemed to view the whole performance quite as a matter of course, and accepted the situation with the same merry philosophy that they had shown in the morning. The thermometer had fallen many degrees, and the cold wind against damp clothing caused a most unpleasant sensation. "It's an ill wind that blows nobody good," said Guy. "This breeze will take us home, spinning." "I'm glad of it," said Ethelyn snappishly; "I've had quite enough of the sailing party." Frank confided to Patty afterward that he felt like responding that the sailing party had had quite enough of her, but instead he said politely: "Oh, don't be so easily discouraged! Better luck next time." To which Ethelyn replied, still crossly, "There'll be no next time for me." CHAPTER XIX MORE COUSINS Patty was not sorry when her Elmbridge cousins concluded their visit, and the evening after their departure she sat on the veranda with her father, talking about them. "It's a pity," she said, "that Ethelyn is so ill-tempered; for she's so pretty and graceful, and she's really very bright and entertaining when she is pleased. But so much of the time she is displeased, and then there's no doing anything with her." "She's selfish, Patty," said her father; "and selfishness is just about the worst fault in the catalogue. A selfish person cannot be happy. You probably learned something to that effect from your early copybooks, but it is none the less true." "I know it, papa, and I do think that selfish ness is the worst fault there is; and though I fight against it, do you know I sometimes think that living here alone with you, and having my own way in everything, is making me rather a selfish individual myself." "I don't think you need worry about that," said a hearty voice, and Kenneth Harper appeared at the veranda steps. "Pardon me, I wasn't eavesdropping, but I couldn't help overhearing your last remark, and I think it my duty to set your mind at rest on that score. Selfishness is not your besetting sin, Miss Patty Fairfield, and I can't allow you to libel yourself."