It was only when they had barely time enough left to reach home for a late dinner that they were all willing to enter the carriages and be driven away from the spot.
As they passed through the streets of the town, the crier was out with his hand-bell.
"Oh yes! oh yes! all the windows to be taken out of the Athenaeum to-day, and the Athenaeum to be elevated to-night."
After listening intently to several repetitions of the cry, they succeeded in making it out.
"But what on earth does he mean?" exclaimed Betty.
"Ventilated, I presume," replied the captain. "There was an exhibition there last night, and complaints were made that the room was close."
Toward evening of the next day our friends in the cliff cottages began to look for the return of the Edna with the four young men of their party. But night fell, and yet they had not arrived.
Elsie began to feel anxious, but tried not to allow her disturbance to be perceived, especially by Zoe, who seemed restless and ill at ease, going often out to the edge of the cliff and gazing long and intently toward that quarter of the horizon where she had seen the Edna disappear on the morning she sailed out of Nantucket harbor.
She sought her post of observation for the twentieth time just before sunset, and remained there till it grew too dark to see much beyond the line of breakers along the shore below.
Turning to re-enter the house, she found Captain Raymond standing by her side.