"We shall have a storm," said Tristram, after the formalities.
"Oh, I hope not," cried all three ladies. They had become acquainted while watching the patent log on the saloon-deck stern, which Beulah Ware, who knew almost everything, had explained for Rosalie's information.
"It was due when we started," said Tristram.
"And you never told me," cried Rosalie.
"You would have postponed the trip, my dear."
"Make everything tight," came the cheery voice of the captain. "Get your wraps on, ladies. It's going to pour in a hurry."
"Do let us remain outside," cried Beulah. "I've nothing on that will spoil, under a waterproof."
The others assented, and Tristram and Beulah disappeared for a few moments, returning with mackintoshes and rubber cloaks.
"There, you look like fisher folk," said Tristram, when the ladies had pulled the cowls of their glazed garments over their heads.
"And romantic for the first time, I suppose," said Rosalie. "Tristram is a great stickler for barbarism, you know."