A half dozen women were signalling him now, and the captain blew a reassuring blast. And then round the corner from Elm Street, moving leisurely, came a stout swaying figure, with floating draperies. Children clung to her hands, children hung by her skirts, children ran after her and children danced before her. And long before she reached the water's edge could be heard her admonitions, "Now, you, Johnnie Pickett, don't you dare to walk down there in the dirt. Maddie Willis, just you tie that hat on your head again, you'll get a sunstroke, you know you will. Jimmie Hurd, you leave that poor little dog alone--" Roderick looked eagerly beyond the lady, and there she was, at the rear of the procession, bringing up the stragglers. She was wearing a dress of that dull blue he liked to see her wear, the blue that was just a shade paler than her eyes, and she wore a big white shady hat. As she came nearer he could see she was laughing at Johnnie Pickett's wicked antics. Her face had lost all its old sadness. Roderick's heart was filled with a great foreboding. Had Dick Wells' visit brought that new colour to her cheek and the sparkle to her eyes? He wanted to go down and help her and her flock on board, for Gladys Hurd and Mrs. Perkins and Eddie and the baby were with her, and a half-dozen little folk were asking each a half-dozen questions of her at one moment. But he stood back shyly watching her from a distance, as Dr. Blair and Harry Lauder and the rest of the Highland Club helped them on board, the Piper meanwhile circling around Madame much to her disgust.