"Oh, it iss ferry quate this morning," says Captain John, with a shrewd smile. "It iss not often so quate as this. Ay, it iss sometimes ferry bad here—quite so bad as Corrievreckan; and when the flood-tide is rinnin, it will be rinnin like—shist like a race-horse." However, by dint of much hard pulling, and judicious steering, we manage to keep the _White Dove_ pretty well in mid-current; and only once—and that but for a second or two—get caught in one of those eddies circling in to the shore. We pass the white ferry-house; a slight breeze carries us by the green shores and woods of Glenelg; we open out the wider sea between Isle Ornsay and Loch Hourn; and then a silver tinkle tells us breakfast is ready. That long, beautiful, calm summer day: Ferdinand and Miranda playing draughts on deck—he having rigged up an umbrella to shelter her from the hot sun; the Laird busy with papers referring to the Strathgovan Public Park; the hostess of these people overhauling the stores and meditating on something recondite for dinner. At last the Doctor fairly burst out a-laughing. "Well," said he, "I have been in many a yacht; but never yet in one where everybody on board was anxiously waiting for the glass to fall." His hostess laughed too. "When you come south again," she said, "we may be able to give you a touch of something different. I think that, even with all your love of gales, a few days of the equinoctials would quite satisfy you." "The equinoctials!" he said, with a surprised look. "Yes," said she boldly. "Why not have a good holiday while you are about it? And a yachting trip is nothing without a fight with the equinoctials. Oh, you have no idea how splendidly the _White Dove_ behaves!" "I should like to try her," he said, with a quick delight; but directly afterwards he ruefully shook his head. "No, no," said he, "such a tremendous spell of idleness is not for me. I have not earned the right to it yet. Twenty years hence I may be able to have three months’ continued yachting in the West Highlands." "If I were you," retorted this small person, with a practical air, "I would take it when I could get it. What do you know about twenty years hence?—you may be physician to the Emperor of China. And you have worked very hard; and you ought to take as long a holiday as you can get." "I am sure," says Mary Avon very timidly, "that is very wise advice." "In the meantime," says he, cheerfully, "I am not physician to the Emperor of China, but to the passengers and crew of the _White Dove_. The passengers don’t do me the honour of consulting me; but I am going to prescribe for the crew on my own responsibility. All I want is, that I shall have the assistance of Miss Avon in making them take the dose." Miss Avon looked up inquiringly with the soft black eyes of her.