II.—BECALMED
"Well," said Dahlia, giving up the tiller with a sigh, "if this is all that you and Joe can do in the way of a breeze, you needn't have worried."
"Don't blame the crew," said Archie nobly, "he did his best. He sat up all night whistling."
"ARE we moving?" asked Myra, from a horizontal position on the shady side of the mainsail.
"We are not," I said, from a similar position on the sunny side.
"Let's get out."
Simpson took off his yachting cap and fanned himself with a nautical almanac. "How far are we from anywhere?" he asked cheerfully.
"Miles," said Archie. "To be more accurate, we are five miles from a public-house, six from a church, four from a post-office, and three from the spacious walled-in kitchen-garden and tennis-court. On the other hand, we are quite close to the sea."
"You will never see your friends again, Simpson. They will miss you … at first … perhaps; but they will soon forget. The circulation of the papers that you wrote for will go up, the brindled bull-pup will be fed by another and a smaller hand, but otherwise all will be as it was before."
My voice choked, and at the same moment something whizzed past me into the sea.
"Yachting cap overboard! Help!" cried Myra.