'You are lucky,' said Marjorie to the boys. 'How I wish we could go too. Do you think they meant to invite us?' Allan looked doubtful. 'I don't know,' he said. 'I don't think they thought of it. But I daresay they would be glad to see you if you came.' 'It's no good, I'm afraid,' answered Marjorie; 'I'd have to ask Mother and she'd be sure to say no. But there is the boat going away, and listen, isn't that the horn?' They hearkened for a moment, and it was unmistakably the old ram's horn which was sounded at Ardnavoir to summon those at a distance when any notable event was about to take place. 'I wonder what it can be,' said Tricksy, as they scampered in the direction of the mansion-house; 'do you think it can have anything to do with the _Heroic_, Allan?' Mrs. Stewart was in the doorway. 'We are invited to luncheon on board the _Heroic_,' she announced. 'The officers have signalled to ask Dr. and Mrs. MacGregor to come too, and we have telephoned to say that Marjorie can get ready here, if Mrs. MacGregor will bring her things with her.' The young people did not look so pleased as Mrs. Stewart had anticipated. 'How many of us are asked, Mummie?' inquired Tricksy. 'As many as care to come,' answered Mrs. Stewart. 'The boys may come too if they like.' All the boys looked unwilling. 'Don't you want to go?' asked Mrs. Stewart in surprise. 'Yes, Mother,' answered Allan; 'but the men have invited us already.' 'And would you rather go with them?' The boys' faces showed that they would, and Mrs. Stewart gave permission with a laugh. Tricksy sidled up to her mother. 'Mummie, don't you think that Marjorie and I could go too?' she asked. 'No, I am quite sure that it wouldn't do,' replied Mrs. Stewart; and the girls looked disappointed. 'You had better go upstairs and begin to get ready,' said Mrs. Stewart. 'Marjorie can brush her hair'--looking dubiously at the tangled mass of curls, in which bits of grass and heather had become intermixed, 'and perhaps by that time her other frock and her hat will have arrived.' The girls turned to go upstairs, but paused to look at Carlo, who came running down the steps, wriggling his small body, and whining as though he were in pain. 'What's the matter with the poor little dog?' they cried. Every one turned round as Carlo landed on the rug, and stood yelping distressfully. 'Whatever is the little brute going on about?' said Reggie, looking at him with curiosity. 'Something is hurting him,' said Hamish. 'I never saw him go on like that before,' remarked Allan. Laddie sprang forward, wagging his tail and running to every one in turn, trying to explain that his little friend needed help. 'Look how he bites his tail,' cried Mrs. Stewart, 'why do you do that, Carlo?' 'Hydrophobia, perhaps,' suggested Allan; and some of the bystanders edged a little farther away. 'Poor little dog,' said Gerald soothingly; 'tell us what's the matter with you.'