"And he couldn't be in better company, could he?" was her laughing addition.
Violet was as much taken by surprise as the others, but in her secret heart not at all sorry—"It would be so much less lonely with Cousin Donald there."
They stood on the beach, waving their handkerchiefs to their departing friends until the latter had reached the deck of the yacht. Nor did they cease to watch the vessel so long as the smallest portion of it was visible, as it faded quite out of sight.
Violet felt a strong inclination to indulge in a hearty cry, but putting a determined restraint upon herself, chatted cheerfully instead. Yet her friends perceived her depression and exerted themselves for her entertainment.
"It seems to me," Donald said, with a glance at Violet, but addressing Mrs. Perkins, as they went into a summer house near by and sat down, "that this little lady has less of inquisitiveness than most people—(I will not say most of her sex, for I think my own is by no means deficient in the characteristic)—or she would have made some inquiry in regard to the strong inducements I spoke of."
"What were they?" Violet asked. "You have roused my sleeping curiosity."
"Mrs. Perkins has kindly offered to come to the cottage and help us with our housekeeping while the rest of the lads and lassies are away, and to bring Miss Susie and her brother with her."
Vi's face lighted up with pleasure. "It is very kind," she said. "Now I shall not mind the absence of the others half so much as I had expected. I like my little room at the cottage, and do not fancy living in a crowd as I must anywhere else."
"Then you will not go home?" Donald said, inquiringly.
"No; upon second thought I have decided against that plan, because if I did go I must tell mamma how it happened, and then if a storm should come up she would be tortured with useless anxiety about my brother."