"If you are thinking only of us, I should n't mind one bit. I should love dearly to go. I have often seen the torpedo boats from my windows and wished to be on one of them. They look so black and venomous!"
"All right. I'll take you." Armitage looked at them with serious face. "There may be some danger. It is n't yachting, you know."
"Of course it isn't," said Sara.
"Certainly not," echoed Anne. "And besides, Mr. Armitage, I 've never faced real danger in my life—except once when my polo pony ran away. Oh, I want to go!"
"I should like to change my clothes." Armitage glanced humorously at his livery.
"Of course," said Anne. "I tell you; you leave us at Berger's, drive home and change your clothes, then you can pick us up there and we 'll leave the car at O'Neill's until we return. How is that? We will have a lobster ordered for you."
"Don't bother about that, please. I shall have to run over to the island when I come back from The Crags, to prepare the way. Take a taxicab and be at the Navy Landing—no, that would n't be wise; some one might see you. Go to the New York Yacht Club station and I, or Johnson, my second, will be there in the D'Estang's launch. We are the outer boat in the slips and you can come aboard over the stern without any one seeing you. Don't be a minute later than seven-thirty o'clock—that is," he added, "if you are serious about making the trip."
"Serious!" exclaimed Sara.
"Oh, we are serious," said Anne, "and Mr. Armitage—you 're awfully good!"
A tall, grave, young ensign met the two excited girls at the hour designated and shot them across the bay to the torpedo boat slips in silence.