As the sound of the oars grew fainter and fainter, Helen went to the bows, from whence she hoped to make her sketch, and stood silently looking at the view—at the wooded hills casting deep shadows into the glassy water, at the arm of the sea they had just come up, and out in the open ocean like a green gem in a silver setting—the distant island of Ross. It was undoubtedly, as Mr. Latimer had suggested, a capital place for a sketch, and she must lose no time, and make the most of the light whilst it lasted. So she got out her paint-box and immediately set to work; but,—and here I appeal specially to artists,—is it easy to draw, with a large solar topee thrust over your right shoulder, and a voice perpetually in your ear, saying,—
"Oh, you are not making Ross nearly high enough! Surely that point is never meant for Hopetown? those trees are too far apart; and Chatham is crooked!"
Helen was almost beside herself, every stroke was rudely criticized, and Mrs. Creery emphasized her remarks with her chin, which was nearly as sharp as that of the Duchess in Wonderland. At length she turned her attention elsewhere, much to her victim's relief, and began to investigate, and poke about among old spars and rubbish.
After a delightful respite, Helen heard her calling out,—
"I see a little boat coming this way, with two men in it—no, one man is a dog; it's from Navy Bay, and is sure to be Mr. Manners. I'll wave and beckon him here, for it's very dull for me!"
Accordingly Mrs. Creery's handkerchief (which was the size of an ordinary towel) was seen being violently agitated over the side, and met with an immediate response, for the little boat rowed by one man, with one dog passenger, was soon within easy hail.
"I do declare," cried Mrs. Creery peevishly, "if it is not that odious Mr. Lisle! I never wanted him." However, wanted or not, he was already alongside, looking up at the bulwarks expectantly.
"Oh! it's you, Mrs. Creery! can I be of any service to you?"
"I thought it was Mr. Manners," she called down in an aggrieved tone. "I never dreamt of its being you! However, you may come up," speaking precisely as if she were in her own verandah.
Mr. Lisle did not look as if he was going to seize this niggardly invitation; on the contrary, he took a firmer hold of the sculls, glanced over his shoulder, and was evidently about to depart, when Mrs. Creery casually remarked, as if it were a mere afterthought,—