As time went on many excursions were planned. Mr. Mitchell hired a motor boat which was put into use nearly every day, and was seen skimming the space between Fieldings and Jagged Island, or was started early for a cruise up the bay. Sometimes there would be a shore dinner at the Neck, or a picnic on one of the lovely islands within reach. There were seldom less than half a dozen in the party, and often as many as twenty would start out in a sail-boat for a day's pleasuring. Kenneth's sister, Mrs. Fleming, frequently joined the others, and her two children were seldom left behind. Mrs. Fleming was an unoffensive little person, devoted to her babies, amiable and chatty, though not very intellectual. Her prettiness and sweetness always won her a welcome, and she was pressed into service as chaperon oftener than any one else.
It was for one of these expeditions that Cephas Mitchell started out to look up his party one afternoon. He had already secured an acceptance from Ethel Fuller, had engaged Miss Henrietta Gray as chaperon, and was now in search of Gwen. He did not find her at Wits' End, so he wandered down toward the rocks and at last recognized the blue linen suit and white hat which he knew she wore. She was bending over a small pool in the rocks, the home of various little sea creatures to whom each returning tide brought gifts. Feathery green mosses waved in the clear water, strangely colored star fish languidly made their way through a forest of sea-weed to the shelter of an overhanging ledge, purple or pink crabs scuttled across the rocky floor to sink out of sight in a bed of brown kelp. Far under the jutting shelves of their watery home anemones and sea urchins clung to the shadowy retreats which they recognized as places of safety. The little barnacles were everywhere, finding refreshment at each new influx of the sea.
Although Gwen did not raise her head, she had seen the angular figure of Cephas Mitchell springing down the rocks. She had also seen some one else coming in an opposite direction, and she smiled. She knew each was bent upon some plan for the afternoon's enjoyment. "I'll leave it to fate," she said to herself. "I shall accept the first invitation from whichever it may be." She trailed her fingers through the salty water, and prodded a little star-fish from his hold upon the rocks. There was a hint of excitement in her action, for she was determined not to give herself the opportunity of watching the two men who were trying to find her. "I wonder whose voice I shall hear first," she was saying to herself when she felt the near presence of some one who greeted her with "Good afternoon, Miss Whitridge. Lovely day, isn't it?"
Then from just overhead some one called down to her: "Oh, Miss Whitridge, can you go sailing? Mr. Williams wants to take us out, and your aunt says she will go."
Gwen rose to her feet and looked up to see Kenneth Hilary's eager face bending over the cliff, while at her side stood Cephas Mitchell regarding her ruefully, conscious that the other's lack of ceremony had given him precedence. "You haven't any other engagement, I hope," said Kenneth.
"No," Gwen acknowledged, "and I'll go with pleasure. When do we start?"
"In half an hour. Mr. Williams is bringing the boat around to Capt. Purdy's wharf."
"Dear me," Mr. Mitchell began, "I'm too late. I wish I'd found you five minutes sooner, for I, too, wanted you to go out this afternoon. Cousin Henrietta and Miss Fuller are going and—" He turned to Kenneth with sudden inspiration. "Couldn't we all go together in the motor-boat, and leave your sailing-party for to-morrow?"
"I'm afraid not," returned Kenneth. "You see it isn't my sailing-party, but Mr. Williams'. We go by his invitation, or I would ask you to join us."
Mr. Mitchell, discomfited, turned upon his heel, saying over his shoulder, "The next time, Miss Whitridge, I shall take time by the forelock."