"The show is over," he cried, "and here comes your highnesses' carriage."
"I wouldn't have missed it for anything," said Margaret softly, with a rapt face still.
"It was worth living on potatoes for a month for," said Miss Penny. "All the same, I hope Mrs. Carré will have some dinner for us when we get home."
The boat was heading for the Pente-à-Fouaille where they had landed the day before, and they hurried to meet it, Graeme full of misgivings as to the embarkation, for the waves were still roaring up the rocks in bursts of foam, though the wind had fallen somewhat.
But the boatmen knew their business, and had brought an extra hand for its safe accomplishment. They dropped the sail and pulled round a corner of the black rock. Then, while two of them kept the boat from destruction, the other stood and Graeme dropped the girls one by one into his arms, and was a very thankful man when he tumbled in himself, all in a heap, and wiped the big drops of sweat from his brow.
A stroke or two with the oars and they were plunging back through the hissing white caps, but not, as he had expected, to Havre Gosselin.
"Where to?" he shouted to the blue-guernseyed stalwart nearest him.
"Grande Grève. We couldn' beach in Havre Gosselin, and mebbe the leddies wouldn' like to climb the ladders," with a grin at the leddies.
"Not much!" said Miss Penny. "Margaret, my dear, prepare yourself! I'm going to be sick if this goes on much longer."
But before she had time to be sick they had rounded the shoulder of Port-és-Saies, and their boat's nose ran up the soft sand of a low tide in Grande Grève, and the green waves came curling exultantly in over the stern. The men leaped out and hauled bravely, and in a moment the girls were ashore.