"Shall you go to Clawtol Wood?" he asked.
"I don't know. I'm not sure. Besides, how can I tell which 8.30 she means?"
"She can't mean breakfast-time," suggested her brother with reason. "They'd tell her we have it at half past eight, and usually wait about till nine in holidays. Besides, it's a bad time for hiding oneself considering everybody in Bell Bay is going back to work."
"So it is. Well, I must say going to meet people at 8.30 in the evening is rather a vulgar sort of action," Pamela lay down as she gave this distinctly sensible opinion. "I don't care about going. I don't think I will, Midget."
"I wouldn't," remarked Hughie decidedly, and went off--silently as he entered.
The crew of the yawl was good as its word, and turned up at breakfast-time--half past eight. Indeed they were in the cove much earlier, and riding on the moorings like a white swan on a pond. It was calm and fresh as fairyland. Mist seemed to have lasted most of the night, but cleared with sunrise, leaving a wonderful feeling of cleanness.
Christobel and Adrian were in high spirits, they had done what they most wished; anchored out all night, and slept on board--on their own responsibility, and they felt entirely satisfied with the experience, also, anxious to do it again. The more they did, the more they might be allowed to do without bother or question, for when Mrs. Romilly understood that they were as safe as in Penberthy's day, she would cease to trouble about them.
Addie shouted up to her window, and imparted news in cheerful tones. Crow went in to have a bath and do her hair before the bell rang.
There was a general stir of excitement.
In the middle of breakfast Adrian said: