"O Nathalie," protested Jean, with changing color.
"Well, I am glad to know he is not a muff," said Nathalie, as Farr caught the sandwich. "What is the matter, Jean? I didn't know you were so easily shocked."
"Look out for the boom," called Dudley most opportunely, and the Cyclone came swiftly about.
"What an unfortunate move. Now the sun is right in our eyes," and Jean looked up at Farr appealingly. "Won't you please have it removed?"
"Why, certainly. Are not your wishes my law?" and even as he spoke the sun slipped under a cloud.
"What a wonderful man," Eleanor Hill laughed softly.
The afternoon sped away all too rapidly, and the hours were as minutes to the happy young people skimming the waters of the beautiful sound. Nature was at her very best this sunshiny summer afternoon. Light fleecy clouds scudded swiftly across the delicious blue of the vaulted sky above, and in the distance the low, far-stretching, Long Island shore was bathed in a soft, violet haze, broken here and there by patches of white, glistening sand.
The Cyclone, with every yard of canvas set, was running gayly before the breeze, which since noon had grown strong and steady. The swash of the water against the boat, the slight straining and creaking of the rigging, the sighing of the wind in the sails, were sounds sweet as music to the ear of every true lover of the sea.
And now the summer day began to wane, and in the western sky the sun was shining with a brilliant radiance.
"Ah!" sighed Jean softly, as they dropped anchor in Hetherford Harbor, "why do all pleasant things come to an end?"