"I've got my oilskins," the captain said. "I'll stay here, but perhaps you folks had better run in."
Miss Matthews protested. "I've lived too long on this coast to mind a storm. I'll wrap up in my rubber coat and let it rain. But we'd better get that child in somewhere; she's scared of storms."
"Are you?" Justin asked Bettina.
"If there's going to be wind," she said, "I'm awfully afraid."
"Then we'll run for it," he told her; "up the hill to the house."
As he helped her climb the rocks, they took a last glance back at the stolid pair who didn't mind storms. Captain Stubbs in brilliantly yellow new oilskins and Miss Matthews in a sad-colored waterproof coat sat side by side with their backs against the beached boat.
"Perhaps we should have stayed with them," said Bettina, doubtfully, as Justin drew her up to his level.
But Justin had no doubts. Ahead of them was the dimness of the hemlock forest; the solitude of the storm. He coveted the brief moments when they might be alone together.
"Come," he urged, and they entered upon the darkness of the wood.
As they sped along over the cushioned earth, Justin helped her strongly, half lifting her at times over the rough places.