forgotten such things, but then he looked
at it again and told us it meant something like this:

"The happy hour shall come, all the more appreciated because it
comes unexpectedly."

So we went to bed thinking about our poor old Bottle Man consoling
himself out there on his island with Latin quotations.

CHAPTER IV

We all went to Wecanicut next day, which was a glorious one, and
when the food had disappeared we three walked up the point and wrote
to the Bottle Man from there. We'd decided that the paper with "17
Luke Street" on it was much too grand for "poore mariners" anyway,
so we'd just brought brownish paper that comes in a block. We told
the Bottle Man how wonderful we thought it was that he had found our
message, and how his letter had cheered our lonely watching for a
sail. Also, how we had been picked up and were returned now to
Wecanicut of our own will, seeking rich treasure. We described the
"Sea Monster" very carefully, and wrote about the black
cave-entrance-looking place that had happened, where no boat would
dare to venture. Jerry's description of it was quite wild. He
dictated it to me above the shrieking of a lot of gulls which were
flying over us all the time. It went like this:

"The Sea Monster was quite terrific enough looking before, like
the slimy black head of something huge coming out of the water.
Now it looks as if it had opened a cavernous maw" (I'm sure he
nabbed that from some book) "as black as ink, ready to swallow
any unfortunate mariner which came near. Below the base of this
fearsome hole roars the cruel surf, ready to engulf a boat which
would never be seen more if it was once caught in this deadly eddy."

I thought "deadly eddy" sounded like Illiteration, or something you
shouldn't do, in the Rhetoric Books, but Jerry was much excited over
his description. He sat on top of a rock, pointing out at the Sea
Monster like a prophet. He has quite black hair which blows around
wildly, and he looked very strange sitting up there raving about the
cavern. The letter was very long by the time we'd put in everything,
and we hoped the Bottle Man would like it. Just before we signed it,
I said:

"Do you think we'd better tell him I'm really Christine and not
Christopher?"

"_No_," Jerry said; "put Chris, the way you did before. He's writing
now as man to man. He might be disgusted if he knew it was just a
mere female."

"Oh, _thank_ you," I said; but I did put