er saw; wasn't
it, Tom? Sugar was salt beside it; wasn't it, Tom?"

Tom, who had been holding a consultation with Phil over the broken
rudder, answered by a brief, though not unfriendly growl, and paid no
further attention to her. The painter of his boat was made fast to the
_Petrel's_ stern, and the latter was soon winging her way toward the
Camp, towing the disabled boat behind her.

"Aren't you Vincent of 1903?" asked Phil, leaning over the stern, his
hand on the tiller and one eye on the clouds. "Thought so! Used to see
you about the yard. My name is Merryweather; 1902."

"Glad to know you!" said Tom Vincent. "I thought it must be you; I used
to see you rowing, of course. Your brother--"

He was interrupted by excited squeaks from his sister, who was gazing at
Phil with sparkling eyes.

"No!" she cried. "It _can't_ be! It would be _too_ delicious! _not_
Merryweather! Don't ask me to believe it, Peggy, for it simply is beyond
my powers. _Not_ the Snowy's brother!"

"Yes, indeed!" said Peggy, laughing as she, too, leaned back over the
stern. "Let me introduce you; Mr. Philip Merryweather, Miss Viola
Vincent."

"Awfully glad!" said Phil, making a motion toward where his hat should
have been. "I've often heard my sister speak of you, Miss Vincent."

"Oh! Mr. Merryweather, I _adore_ the Snowy!" cried Viola. "She is simply
the dearest creature on the face of the earth. I would give the wide
world--I would give my very best frill to see her. Don't tell me she is
near here, for I should expire with joy; simply expire!"

"I certainly will not," said Phil, smiling, "if the consequences would
really be so terrible, Miss Vincent. Otherwise, I might venture to
predict that you would see her in about ten minutes. If you feel any
untoward symptoms developing, please consider it unsaid!"

"Oh! Tom, isn't it _too_ thrilling?" cried Viola. "Oh! Tom, aren't you
perfectly _rigid_ with excitement? It makes Tom rigid, Mr. Merryweather,
and it makes me flutter; we are so different. _Aren't_ you rigid,
Tommy?"

"Viola, don't be a goose!" said her brother, good-naturedly. "I am not
in the least rigid, though I shall be delighted to see Miss
Merryweather, of course."

"You can see the camp now, through the trees," said Phil. "There is the
flag, just over that tall pine. Flag by day; lantern by night. That is
'Merryweather.' Ready about, Peggy, for the last tack!"

The squall had passed, and though the water was still rough, t