ould neither of
us swim. Charles stretched out his arms imploringly. "For Heaven's
sake," he cried, "don't tell me you really mean to leave us here."

He looked so comical in his distress and terror that Mrs.
Granton--Madame Picardet--whatever I am to call her--laughed
melodiously in her prettiest way at the sight of him. "Dear Sir
Charles," she called out, "pray don't be afraid! It's only a
short and temporary imprisonment. We will send men to take you off.
Dear David and I only need just time enough to get well ashore and
make--oh!--a few slight alterations in our personal appearance."
And she indicated with her hand, laughing, dear David's red wig and
false sandy whiskers, as we felt convinced they must be now. She
looked at them and tittered. Her manner at this moment was anything
but shy. In fact, I will venture to say, it was that of a bold and
brazen-faced hoyden.

"Then you _are_ Colonel Clay!" Sir Charles cried, mopping his brow
with his handkerchief.

"If you choose to call me so," the young man answered politely. "I'm
sure it's most kind of you to supply me with a commission in Her
Majesty's service. However, time presses, and we want to push off.
Don't alarm yourselves unnecessarily. I will send a boat to take you
away from this rock at the earliest possible moment consistent with
my personal safety and my dear companion's." He laid his hand on his
heart and struck a sentimental attitude. "I have received too many
unwilling kindnesses at your hands, Sir Charles," he continued,
"not to feel how wrong it would be of me to inconvenience you for
nothing. Rest assured that you shall be rescued by midnight at
latest. Fortunately, the weather just at present is warm, and I see
no chance of rain; so you will suffer, if at all, from nothing worse
than the pangs of temporary hunger."

Mrs. Granton, no longer squinting--'twas a mere trick she had
assumed--rose up in the boat and stretched out a rug to us. "Catch!"
she cried, in a merry voice, and flung it at us, doubled. It fell
at our feet; she was a capital thrower.

"Now, you dear Sir Charles," she went on, "take that to keep you
warm! You know I am really quite fond of you. You're not half a
bad old boy when one takes you the right way. You have a human side
to you. Why, I often wear that sweetly pretty brooch you gave me
at Nice, when I was Madame Picardet! And I'm sure your goodness to
me at Lucerne, when I was the little curate's wife, is a thing to
reme