“I wish you hadn’t, though,” said Jack; “she’ll never want a yacht of her own now. And how under Scorpion are we ever going to land her?”
“In a sheet, my able-bodied young friend, in a sheet,” said Mitchell clapping him on the back. “Don’t you know the ‘Weigh the Baby’ game? It may double her up a bit, but the redoubtable Janice will straighten her out again. Here’s to the sheet, be it a wet sheet, a main sheet, or a sheet with your Aunt Mary tied up in it.”
Mitchell was as good as his word and they landed Aunt Mary in a sheet. The very harbor-tugs stopped puffing and stood open-mouthed to stare at the performance, but it was an unalloyed success, and Aunt Mary was gotten onto dry land at last.
“I don’t want to do nothin’ for a day or two,” she said, as they drove to the house.
Janice had the bed open, and a hot-water bottle down where Aunt Mary’s feet might be expected, and all sorts of comfort ready to hand.
“I’m so glad to see you safe back,” she said, almost weeping.
“I don’t believe it’s broke,” said Aunt Mary, “but you might look and see. Oh, Granite—I—” she stopped and looked an unutterable meaning.
“It stormed, didn’t it?” said the maid.
“Stormed!” said Aunt Mary. “I guess it did storm. I guess it hurricaned. I know it did. I’m sure of it.”
“But you’re safe now,” said the girl, tucking her up as snugly as if she had been an infant in arms.