ful a mood as this;
storms come upon it so swiftly, and it has taken so many precious
lives."

Donald laid an understanding hand upon her shoulder for a brief moment.

"I won't urge you," he said. "Let's go for a little walk, then."

"I ... I can't do that, either, Donald. It was meant to be a surprise,
but ... Dr. Bentley is coming down from Boston to-night, and I promised
... that is, he has asked me to ... to go somewhere with him." Rose was
blushing again.

"Oh, I see. I didn't know that Phil was coming, although, of course, he
has a standing invitation, and knows that I'm always delighted to see
him," answered Donald, in a tone which he made natural with an effort.

"I invited him especially," broke in Ethel. "And he accepted in a letter
to Rose."

CHAPTER XXXII

THE STORM AND THE SACRIFICE

Baby Don put an end to the moment of strained silence which succeeded.
He laid hold of two of Smiles' fingers and began to pull at her, while
saying insistently, "Come down to the beach with me, Aunty Smiles, and
hear the waves ro-er." This was a favorite pastime with him.

His grandfather smiled. "The waves are 'ro-ering' as gently as any
sucking dove, to-night."

But the baby was not to be turned from his design, and tugged
persistently until Rose was obliged to rise, laughing. Muriel also
started up.

"I'll go down with you and try out the _Water Witch_ alone--unless, that
is, either of you want to come along," said Donald.

His father and Ethel refused, with a show of indignation over the
begrudging form which the invitation had taken, and he was not sorry.
Neither man nor girl could find anything to say as they walked side by
side to the beach, and the former launched the dory tender. As he put
off she waved him a cheery good-by, and sent her low voice across the
broadening water:

"Come back to us soon. And be careful. It is beginning to get rough
already."

With a note in his voice which she did not understand, he called back,
"Perhaps I'll sail straight over to France. You wouldn't care."

"Foolish man. You know that I would," she cried, and then turned to join
the children in their game of skipping pebbles.

Donald sent the skiff through the choppy waves with vigorous strokes and
shot her around at the last moment for a perfect landing. The mainsail
and jib went up with rapid jerks while the rings rattled their protest.
The strenuous physical exercise brought him temporary relief; but, when