"Oh, well," he began again.
"I made him let me watch, Launcelot," Judy interrupted, feeling sorry for the small boy, "and I told him to go to sleep."
"Oh, of course you did," said Launcelot, shortly, "and of course he went, he's a nice sort of sailor."
"I'm not going to be a sailor," Tommy announced, sulkily. "I'm going home—"
"Right-o," agreed Lancelot, "and the quicker the better."
"Miss Judy," came a sepulchral voice from the boat, "Miss Judy, we thought you were drownded."
"Oh, Perkins," cried Judy, "is that you, Perkins?"
"What's left of me, Miss," and Perkins' bald head came into view as he stood up in the boat.
Judy and Tommy climbed in, amid excited questions and explanations, which presently settled into a continuous monotone of complaint from Tommy. "I'm half-starved. Haven't you anything to eat, Perkins?"
Now Tommy grated on Perkins' nerves. The old butler had always been treated by the Jamesons with the gentle consideration due his age and long and faithful service, in the light of which Tommy's dictation seemed nothing less than impertinent.