e steamboats, the Torpedo Lieutenant in the picket-boat and
the Indiarubber Man in the steam pinnace, and a tremor of excitement
ran through the little cluster of children gathering at the jetty steps
ashore.

"It's awfully rough outside the harbour," announced Cornelius James,
submitting impatiently to his nurse's inexplicable manipulation of the
muffler round his neck. "I'm never sick, though," he confided to a
small and rather frightened-looking mite of a girl who clung to her
nurse's hand and looked out to the distant ship with some trepidation
in her blue eyes. "My daddy's a Captain," continued Cornelius James;
"and I'm _never_ sick--are you?"

She nodded her fair head. "Yeth," she lisped sadly.

"P'r'aps your daddy isn't a Captain," conceded Cornelius James
magnificently.

The maiden shook her head. "My daddy's an Admiral," was the slightly
disconcerting reply.

"I shall steer the boat," asserted Cornelius James presently, by way of
restoring his shaken prestige.

"Oh, Corney, you can't," said Jane. "Casey always lets Georgie steer
father's galley--you know he does. You're only saying that to show
off."

"'M not," retorted Cornelius James. "I'm a boy: girls can't steer
boats. 'Sides, Georgie'll be sick."

"Oh, I hope there'll be a band and dancing," said Georgina rapturously.

"That's all you girls think about," snorted a young gentleman of about
her own age, with deep scorn. "_I_ hope there'll be a shooting
gallery, an' those ras'berry puffs with cream on top. . . ." His eye
followed the pitching steamboats, fast drawing near. "Anyhow, I hope
there'll be a shooting gallery. . . . I say, it's rather rough, isn't
it?"

The children, cloaked and muffled in their wraps, watched the boats
buffet their way shoreward in clouds of spray. The parting injunctions
of nurses and governesses fell on deaf ears. How could anyone be
expected to listen to prompted rigmaroles about "bread and butter
before cake" and "don't forget to say thank you for asking me" with the
prospect of this brave adventure drawing so near?

Georgina, standing on tip-toe with excitement, suddenly emitted a
shrill squeal of emotion. "Oh! there's Mr. Mainwaring in the first
boat!"

"Who's Mr. Mainwaring?" inquired a small girl with a white bow over one
ear, secretly impressed by Georgina's obvious familiarity with the
inspiring figure in the stern sheets of the picket-boat.

"_Dear_ Mr. Mainwaring!" repeated Georgina und