stery now."

The breeze favoured the start, and the swelling sails swept the _Gentle
Jane_ along at a scudding pace. Hilda, who had never been sailing
before, was delighted at the swift motion. The sky was as blue as blue
could be, with flecks of white clouds all over it, the water was
sparkling and clear, and dashed with a delightful little swish against
the bow.

"But what do you do if the breeze stops?" she asked.

"We stop, too," said Archie, "unless somebody gets out and drags the
boat along."

"Really? could any one drag this heavy boat along? would they swim? oh,
you're teasing me!"

"Yes, of course he's teasing you," said Edna; "we have to row, if the
breeze stops. Do you see these long oars? Why, boys! you haven't brought
but one oar!"

"Yes, we have," answered the boys in chorus. Then they looked at where
the oars should be, and then at each other. "I thought you brought the
other oar," said Archie.

"And I thought you did," said Will. "Never mind. It looks as if we'd
have a good breeze all day."

"But will the breeze turn for you to come home again?" asked Hilda. "For
if the breeze blows us out, how can it blow us back again?"

"Tack, young woman, tack, but not with a hammer or nails. You'll see,
coming home, if this breeze holds out."

"I'll bet you anything that the breeze _won't_ hold, because you've
forgotten the other oar," said Edna.

"Then we'll put Cricket up in the bow, to whistle up a breeze. That
always brings it."

"It's so funny I can't whistle, when I'd love to, so," said Cricket,
meditatively, for whistling was one boyish accomplishment which she
could not manage.

"You needn't wish to," said Edna, who, strange to say, could whistle
like a blackbird. "You would only have people always telling you, it is
not ladylike. I don't know I'm whistling half the time when mamma tells
me not to. It just whistles itself."

"Why _don't_ I whistle right?" asked Cricket, dolefully, for the
hundredth time. "I pucker my lips up so--and I blow--_so_--and I can
give one straight whistle, but I can't make it go up and down. It
doesn't twinkle as Edna's does."

Edna broke out into a perfect bird song of twittering and chirping and
trilling.

"There, I just enjoyed that!" she said, at last, stopping breathlessly.
"When I'm way out at sea, mamma lets me whistle all I like."

"Isn't it getting near luncheon-time, auntie?" asked Eunice. "I'm
dreadfully hungry."

"Luncheon-time, dear child! It'