hey made it a
point of serious doubt whether the orders of the king himself could set
aside the Fourth Commandment, though his arms were over it.

Dr. Upround's daughter, as she watched the sea, felt sure that, even if
the goods were ready, no attempt at landing would be made that night,
though something might be done in the morning. But even that was not
very likely, because (as seemed to be widely known) the venture was a
very large one, and the landers would require a whole night's work to
get entirely through with it.

"I wish it was over, one way or the other," she kept on saying to
herself, as she gazed at the dark, weary lifting of the sea; "it keeps
one unsettled as the waves themselves. Sunday always makes me feel
restless, because there is so little to do. It is wicked, I suppose; but
how can I help it? Why, there is a boat, I do declare! Well, even a boat
is welcome, just to break this gray monotony. What boat can it be? None
of ours, of course. And what can they want with our Church Cave? I hope
they understand its dangers."

Although the wind was not upon the shore, and no long rollers were
setting in, short, uncomfortable, clumsy waves were lolloping under the
steep gray cliffs, and casting up splashes of white here and there. To
enter that cave is a risky thing, except at very favorable times, and
even then some experience is needed, for the rocks around it are like
knives, and the boat must generally be backed in, with more use of
fender and hook than of oars. But the people in the boat seemed to
understand all that. There were two men rowing, and one steering with an
oar, and a fourth standing up, as if to give directions; though in truth
he knew nothing about it, but hated even to seem to play second fiddle.

"What a strange thing!" Janetta thought, as she drew behind a rock, that
they might not see her, "I could almost declare that the man standing
up is that most extraordinary gentleman papa preached quite the wrong
sermon at. Truly he deserves the Ahab one, for spying our caves out on a
Sunday. He must be a smuggler, after all, or a very crafty agent of the
Revenue. Well, I never! That old man steering, as sure as I live, is
Robin Cockscroft, by the scarlet handkerchief round his head. Oh, Robin!
Robin! could I ever have believed that you would break the Sabbath so?
But the boat is not Robin's. What boat can it be? I have not staid away
from church for nothing. One of the men rowing has got no le