We had crossed the short expanse of sea, and passing a small lighthouse were entering a square harbor lined with fishing-boats. Stoutly built, solid fishing-boats they were, meant for stormy weather; and their metal pennons, which could never droop in deadest calm, flew bravely, all in the same direction, like flags in a company of lances in an old Froissart picture.
"Is Volendam celebrated for tall men as well as beautiful girls?" asked Nell, as we drew near enough to see figures moving. "There are several there, but one is almost the tallest man I ever saw—except my cousin Robert."
"He looks singularly like your cousin Robert," added Starr, not too joyously.
"I think it is your cousin Robert," said I.
"I'm sure it is your cousin Robert," murmured Miss Rivers.
"But why is your cousin Robert here?" inquired the Chaperon. "Could he have known you were coming?"
"I didn't write to him," said Nell.
"I didn't," said I.
Nobody else spoke; but Miss Rivers blushed.