For the little doctor came panting along with a bucket of water in each hand, the Resident walking by his side till the two vessels were plumped down in front of Helen’s chair.
“Now, my dear Harry, what are you doing?” began the little lady, in tones of remonstrance.
“All right, my dear. Two pails full of freshly-dipped sea water. Now, ladies and gentlemen, if you will close round, I will show you some of the marvels of creation.”
As quite a little crowd began to collect, many being ladies, at whom the little doctor’s wife—only a few days back elderly Miss Rosebury—directed very sharp, searching glances, especially when they spoke to her husband, Helen rose with a look of annoyance from her chair and began to walk forward.
She was hesitating about going farther alone, when a low voice by her ear said, softly:
“Thank you, Miss Perowne. Suppose you take my arm? We will walk forward into the bows.”
“Mr Harley!” said the lady, drawing back, with her eyes full of indignation.
“I think I was to show you the beauty of the sunset,” he said. “We can see it so much better from the bows, and,” he added, meaningly, “I shall have so much better an opportunity to say that which I wish to say.”
“What you wish to say, Mr Harley?”
“Yes,” he replied, taking her hand, drawing it quickly through his arm, and leading her down the steps.