Soon, too soon, alas! all was ready; the little trunk packed and strapped, and Hilda in jacket and hat—the first time in a month that she had worn either—smiling as well as she could, and kissing and shaking hands, almost in silence.
Mr. Merryweather had just come up from the boathouse, and joined his regrets to the general chorus.
"And who is the captain of this black-sailed ship that carries our little girl away from us?" he asked. "Are you going to drive her in, Gerald?"
"No, father," said Gerald, hastily. "I think Roger is going in."
"Yes," said Roger; "I am going in, Miles."
"Oh!" said Mr. Merryweather. "Is there anything special you want to see to in town, Roger?"
"Why—no; I am going for—"
"Then, if it's all the same, suppose you let Phil drive Hilda in. I want your help this afternoon, very much, on the Keewaydin. The boys aren't quite strong enough to tackle her. What do you say, Hilda? You would just as lief have Phil, I dare say, and it will be a treat to him."
What could our poor dear Hilda say? What could she do but smile her assent, when she saw Phil's honest face radiant with pleasure?
Gerald, after looking round in vain for his mother and Bell, who had gone into the house to get something, did indeed mutter that he wanted Phil dreadfully, to do something of great importance, it did not appear precisely what; but he was promptly set down by his father.