Baby Van Rensselaer: But how are we to get into port?
Dear Jones: The whistling engineer further says that we are now drifting toward Watch Hill.
Baby Van Rensselaer: That’s just where we want to go.
Dear Jones: Yes. [An unholy toot from the steam whistle.] And there he is signalling that yacht to take us off!
Baby Van Rensselaer: I must go to my aunt now.
Dear Jones: Why—there’s no hurry.
Baby Van Rensselaer: No, but she’ll be so frightened—she’ll think it’s going to blow up or something.
Baby Van Rensselaer disappeared in the depths of the cabin. Dear Jones disconsolately walked the deck in solitary silence for five minutes. When Baby Van Rensselaer reappeared, his spirits rose.
Baby Van Rensselaer: My aunt is afraid you may have difficulty in reaching New London to-night. She wants me to ask you if you won’t stay over-night at her place at Watch Hill?
Dear Jones: Won’t I? Well, I will—have much pleasure in accepting your aunt’s invitation.