"You're just in time to witness the great event of the day," she greeted him as he joined them, pleased that she had Cosden and Huntington even temporarily to herself. "One of the best things they do down here is to arrange the sailings to New York at a time when one may see the boat off without getting up at all hours of the night." Cosden started to speak and then paused, looking at her narrowly to make certain that by no possible construction could any answer of his be twisted into an invitation to drive to St. George's, or to some other point equally remote. "Your remark shows that you and Mr. Huntington have much in common," he observed at length. "Ability to sleep is an evidence of a clear conscience," she asserted. "Which explains my restless nights, and the necessity of making up my quota at the wrong end," Huntington said. "But you come from New England, Mr. Huntington," Edith expostulated. "I've always heard a lot about the New England conscience." "I'll wager you never heard anything good about it," Huntington smiled. "Does it ever really keep any one from doing the things he wants to do?" she asked mischievously. "No," Huntington answered gravely; "it simply makes him very uncomfortable while he's doing them." "I thought your sleeplessness might be caused by anxiety lest that precious nephew of yours forget to take the boat this morning," Cosden remarked dryly. Huntington was quietly amused. "How about you?" he asked. "I'm here to throw him bodily on board at the first sign of any change of plan." "You speak as if you had a grudge against the boy," Edith said, looking surprised. "Not at all," Cosden demurred; "Billy is all right, but he covers too much territory. Since he landed I haven't been able to put my foot on the ground without stepping on him. His Alma Mater needs Billy more than I do, and, as Monty says, we alumni must be loyal to our Dear Mother." "His Alma Mater will have to do without him for a few days longer unless he appears soon," Edith remarked calmly, pointing toward the dock. "The tender has just started and will be here at the pier in a moment." Both men sprang to their feet. "Where in the world can that boy be?" Huntington demanded with real concern. "You go up to his room and I'll look around down here," Cosden said, taking command of the situation. Huntington disappeared with astonishing alacrity, while his friend deserted Miss Stevens to pursue the search down-stairs. "Why don't you find Miss Thatcher?" Cosden suggested, coming back to her as the idea struck him; "that will probably locate the boy." "I'd rather watch the man-hunt from here," she retorted coolly. "I don't want to miss seeing you throw him bodily on board."