"Thank you. Well, the desire for the recovery of the portrait is no longer a sentiment with me,—it is a passion. My daily occupation now is driving about and asking for a drink of water, or inquiring about early vegetables, chickens, goslings,—anything which will afford a plausible excuse for penetrating into the dark halls or stuffy fore-rooms. Of course I rule out the modern houses. I have even tried the tavern here at the beach; but the only decorations of the walls were 'Wide Awake' and 'Fast Asleep,' and other chromos of the same pronounced and distressing variety."
Flint took off his eye-glasses, and began to wipe them tenderly with his delicate handkerchief.
"Perhaps," he began, when he was interrupted [Pg 113] by a wild whoop just above. It was from Jimmy Anstice, who shared the delusion, common to his age and sex, that nothing is so amusing as a sudden and unexpected noise.
"Oh, Jimmy!" his sister exclaimed.
"Oh, Jimmy!" mocked the boy. "I am glad to find that you are alive. I've been watching you two these ten minutes, and you've sat as still as if Mrs. Jarley hadn't wound you up yet."
"She hasn't," said Winifred, somewhat inconsequently. "Have you finished digging your clams? What time is it?"
"I've dug all the clams I'm going to; don't intend to get all the food for the boarding-house," answered Jimmy, somewhat sulkily, leaving Flint to answer the last question.
"It is ten minutes after twelve," he said, looking at his watch.
"Dear me!" ejaculated Winifred, "I had no idea it was so late. I promised Dr. Cricket to play chess with him at twelve."
She rose as she spoke, and stretched out her hand for the golf cape; but Flint kept it quietly, and started on by her side.