Harry raised the boat-hook, and thrust the little vessel away, and then began to step the mast.
“Lay hold of the rudder, Leslie,” he cried. “Send us up some fish for tea, uncle.”
“I’ll wait and see first whether you come back,” said the old man. “Good-bye, girls. Don’t be uneasy. I’ll go and tell the old people if you’re drowned.”
“Thank you,” shouted back the young man as he hoisted the little sail, which began to fill at once, and by the time he had it sheeted home, the boat was swiftly running eastward with the water pattering against her bows, and a panorama of surpassing beauty seeming to glide slowly by them on the left.
“There!” cried Harry to his friend, who had seated himself rather sulkily forward, the order to take the tiller having placed Leslie between Louise and Madelaine. “Make much of it, Vic: Paddington to-morrow night, hansom cab or the Underground, and next morning the office. Don’t you feel happy?”
“Yes, now,” said Pradelle, with a glance at Louise.
“Easy, Leslie, easy,” cried Harry; “where are you going?”
“I beg pardon,” said the young man hastily, for he had unwittingly changed the course of the boat.
“That’s better. Any one would think you wanted to give Uncle Luke the job he talked about.”
Madelaine looked up hastily.