"Not so bad, eh?" he said, as he took another turn on the sheet.
"Oh, Phil, it is perfectly splendid! why, we are simply flying! Oh, I wish it was like this all the time."
"Hi!" said Phil again. "Everybody doesn't seem to be of your opinion, Peggy. That boat over there will be in trouble if she doesn't look out. Sapolio! there is something wrong. We'd better run over and see."
At a little distance a small boat was tossing violently on the water; her sail was lowered, and a white handkerchief was fluttering from the stern like a signal of distress.
"Ready about!" said Phil. Peggy crouched down on the seat, the boom swung over, and the gallant little Petrel flew swiftly as her namesake to the rescue.
"Anything wrong?" asked Phil, as he ran alongside the crippled boat.
"Broke our rudder!" was the reply, from a pleasant-looking lad; "must have been cracked before we started. If you could lend us a pair of oars—I was very stupid to come out without a pair—"
At this moment a clear, shrill voice was heard above the noise of wind and water, crying aloud, "My Veezy Vee! my Veezy Vee! It is my Veezy Vee! Don't tell me it isn't, for it simply is!"
"Viola!" cried Peggy. "Vanity! can it be you?"
"Oh, my dear! I was once, perhaps, but with all my crimps out, how can you have the heart? If ever I get ashore alive,—"