n, Hilda, then. That's a base libel, you know."

But it ended by Will's carrying them all in.

"There are drawbacks to being so popular," said Will, setting down Edna,
who was the last, and wiping his face.

A lighthouse is always an interesting place to visit, and many times as
the Somers children had been there, they always enjoyed the trip.
Cricket and Eunice had never been there but three or four times before.
The good-natured keeper took them all over and showed them everything,
from the twin-lights at the top to the life-boats, for Hilda's benefit.

When they had seen everything that was to be seen they went down to the
shore again, to reembark. It was easier getting back, for the boys made
a lady's chair for each passenger, and together carried her safely over
the shallows, where the water was beginning to rise. They sailed outside
the bar for a short distance, and then it was time to eat their
luncheon.

The luncheon was a royal banquet in point of plenty and variety, for
Mrs. Maxwell's old cook knew, by long experience, just what sort of
appetites the salt air made, and there were seven hungry mouths to feed.
They feasted and chattered, until Auntie Jean suddenly announced that
it was time to turn about, and go in.

"It's too early," said Edna.

"Not with this wind," said her mother. "We'll have to tack all the way,
and I want to get in by five or six."

"It's such fun," sighed Cricket. "I hate to go in. I love the water out
here, when it's all rough and rock-y. I'd like to keep right on to Cape
Cod." She stood in the bow of the boat, with one arm around the mast--it
was a catboat--with the breeze fluttering her curly hair about, and her
dress blowing back stiffly.

"Cricket, please don't stand there any longer," called Auntie Jean. "You
make me nervous. You'll be overboard in a minute, I know."

"No, I won't, auntie, I've stood here heaps of times. I do love to feel
the wind on my face. It makes one feel so _gay_."

"No, come back, please, dear. I feel safer with all my birds under my
wings," answered auntie, for she knew Cricket of old.

Cricket turned, reluctantly, and at the same moment Will called
"Hard-a-lee!" as the boom swung over, and the boat obeyed her helm, and
came round. Cricket was still facing outward, and, as the boat keeled,
she suddenly lost her balance, grasped at the mast which she had let go,
missed it, and disappeared over the bows with a great splash. The boat
swung away fr