help it--I promise that:" these were Dick's last words to the
housekeeper, giving Rameses the touch which set him off with a bolt. So
now he bade the little girls to pick up shells, look out for mermaids,
and disport themselves in harmless lady-like fashion, while he and Oscar
went here and there, scaled heights, and took a glance seaward from the
height of the Swallow's Cliff.

"But first we'll consult the luncheon hamper," suggested he: which they
did; and a very neat spread it was which the girls laid out for them on
the unfrequented beach. This over, with a lifting of the hat, and
"Good-bye for the present," from Dick, and "Mind, Inna, the midges don't
get into mischief," from Oscar, the two went straying away; and the
girls, having cleared away luncheon, began to enjoy themselves. Such
pretty shells they picked, such beautiful sprays of seaweed, and, oh,
how the waves curled and ran races together! Once and again they saw a
distant ship sail past, and Inna thought of the happy days when her
father and mother would come sailing home in a ship like that. Then they
all ran races and sat in the sun, while Jenny sang one of Dick's songs,
with the refrain--

"Three cheers for the briny-ho!"

and Inna sang one of Mrs. Grant's, with this chorus--

"Ho-ho! for the fisherman's child to-night,
Ho-ho! for the fisherman's wife;
Ho-ho! for the fisherman's bark to-night,
Ho-ho! for the fisherman's life."

By-and-by the boys came back to consult the hamper again--nothing like
the sea to make people hungry, and nothing like the sea to steal away
the time. So down they sat to the delights of pork-pie, sandwiches,
tarts, and the like; and, at last, all had vanished, save a little
lemonade, reserved for fear they should be thirsty at starting. As for
Rameses, he munched his hay and drank his one jar of water, poured into
a bucket which Dick had hung on under the cart.

"The old chap won't be able to drink of the briny," he had said in the
morning, drawing attention to his forethought for the animal's comfort.

"Now, just a whisk round, and we shall have to be moving homeward," said
Dick, consulting his watch as they sat together. "I promised Madame
Giche not to be after sunset, and we're keeping company hours with a
vengeance with our late dinner. Why, 'tis between six and seven
o'clock!"

"There'll be a moon," remarked Oscar.

"Yes; but that's not a sun," returned Dick, with a laugh. Then they all
l