“Fiddle-dee-dee,” said Burnett impatiently, “what do you think yachts are for, anyhow? To let alone?” He looked at the maid as he spoke and pointed significantly to the door. She went out at once and returned upstairs to her mistress whom she found quite restless to “get-a-goin’” as she expressed it. The boxes filled with yesterday’s purchases were brought out at once and Janice proceeded to rubber-sole and blue-serge Aunt Mary. The latter regarded every step of the performance in the huge three-fold cheval glass which had been wont to tell Mrs. Rosscott things that every woman longs to know. When her toilette was complete it must be admitted that as a yachtswoman Aunt Mary fairly outshone her automobile portrait. She surveyed herself long and carefully. “I expect it’ll be quite an experience,” she said with many new wrinkles of anticipation. “Yes,” said Janice, with a glance at the fluttering window curtains, “I expect it will be.” Aunt Mary went downstairs and was greeted with loud acclamations. The breakfast party broke up at once and, while Janice phoned for cabs, Aunt Mary’s quartette of escorts sought hats, coats, etcetera. After that they all sallied forth and took their places as joyfully as ever. It was quite a long drive to where “Lady Belle” had been brought up, and they had to stop once to lay in two or three pounds of current literature. “Do you read mostly?” asked Aunt Mary. “It’s best to be on the safe side,” said Clover vaguely. Then they entered the tangle of docks and express wagons and obstacles in general and Mitchell had great difficulty in finding where his launch had been taken to meet them. But at last they got Aunt Mary down a flight of very slippery steps and into a boat whose everything was labeled “Lady Belle,” and Mitchell said something and they cast loose and were off. “Seems rather a small yacht,” said Aunt Mary, glancing cheerfully about. “I ain’t surprised that you’d rather come in nights.” “Bless your heart, Aunt Mary,” shrieked Jack, “this isn’t the yacht, this is the way we get to her.” “Oh,” said Aunt Mary blankly. “That’s the yacht,” yelled Burnett, “that white one with the black smoke coming out and the sail up.” “What are they getting up steam for?” asked Clover. “The time to get up steam is when you get down sails generally.” “They aren’t getting up steam,” said Mitchell, “they’re getting up dinner. It looks like a lot of smoke because of the shadow on the sail. And, speaking of getting up dinner, reminds me that the topic before us now is, how in thunder are we to get up Aunt Mary?” “Put a rope around her and board her as if she was a cavalry horse,” suggested Burnett. “I scorn the suggestion,” said their host; “if the worst comes to the worst I can give her a back up, but I trust that Aunt Mary will rise to the heights of the sail and the situation all at once and not make me do any vertebratical stunts so early in the day.”