She hurried Viola away to the tents, and Mr. Merryweather took possession of her brother with the same hospitable intent, though Tom Vincent protested that he was "no wetter than was entirely comfortable."
Phil, taking in his sail, turned an expressive eye on his twin, who had come aboard to help him.
"Gee!" he said, thoughtfully. "A new variety, Obadiah! Pollybirdia singularis, as Edward Lear hath it."
"She's mighty pretty!" said Gerald.
CHAPTER XIII.
ABOUT VISITING
"Good-by, Tommy, dear. Be sure to tell Mamma that I thought she would not mind my staying, when Mrs. Merryweather was so perfectly heavenly as to ask me. Be sure to tell her that my skirt is all cockled up, so that you could put it in your waistcoat pocket, Tom; and that the only way to save it is to press it damp, and let it dry before I put it on. Tell her that I have got on a dress of the Snowy's that is simply divine,—more becoming than anything I ever had on; and that my silk waist has run—oh, tell her it has run miles, Tom, so that I can never—"
"There, there, Vi!" cried Tom Vincent, pushing his boat off. "I must run, before you swamp me entirely with messages. I'll come back for you to-morrow, and bring your toggery. Ever so many thanks, everybody. You've been awfully good. I've had a corking time. Good-by!"