Toddie and Tip did skip, and after running stark staring mad on the sands for a quarter of an hour they went to say "Dood-bye to the tsilden dolly fishes" in the aquarium.
The blennies were waiting to be stroked, and all waiting to be fed.
"Dood-bye, dolly-fishes;" cried Toddie, waving her hand as she stood in the cave mouth. "Be dood tsilden till oo mammy tomes back, and oo'll all have something nice."
Frank was careering over the sands on the Shetland pony looking for Toddie, and he gave her just one wild gallop before they embarked.
"Don't go far out to-day, bairns," cried Eean. "I'm not sure it isn't going to blow, bright and all as it is. And the breeze is off the land too."
After they had made a good offing, Fred said, "Let us stand right away to the west for a few miles, then tack back. That'll make a nice long sail of it."
The breeze was very light, and they were about five miles from the coast in an hour, a long way decidedly for children to be out on an uncertain day, albeit two of them were children of the sea.
Fred now had the mainsail lowered, and they just kept moving while Frank made coffee, and undid a package containing a splendid veal-pie.
What a delightful feast that was! And the sea and sky and shore looked somehow even more lovely after their hearty meal than they had done before. Even Tip must have thought so too; for he stood with his two fat feet on the gunwale, and barked in a daft kind of way at the sea-gulls.
What glorious tints of blue and opal and purple and green overspread seascape and landscape!