at once, and told him, as respectfully as we could, just what we
thought of him for letting the native child interrupt him in such an
exciting part. We also begged him to write again as soon as
possible, and to choose a place where the inhabitants weren't likely
to come with offerings. We kept waiting and waiting, and no letter
came, so we settled ourselves to Grim Resignation, as Jerry said. It
was worse than waiting for the next number of a serial story,
because you're pretty certain when that will come, but we had no
idea how long it would be before the Bottle Man wrote to us.

Aunt Ailsa still needed cheering up a good deal, and that kept us
busy. The cheering was great fun for us, because it consisted mostly
of picnics and long, long walks,--the kind where you take a stick
and a kit-bag and eat your lunch under a hedge, like a tinker. We
also wrote a story which we used to put in instalments under her
plate at breakfast every other day. We took turns writing the story,
and Greg's instalments always made Aunt Ailsa the most cheered up of
all. The story was much too long to put in here, and rather
ridiculous, besides.

By this time it was almost September, and asters were beginning to
bloom in the garden and the hollyhocks were almost gone. Wecanicut
was turning the dry, russetty color that it does late in the summer,
and the harbor seemed bluer every day. Captain Moss took us out in
the _Jolly Nancy_ one afternoon just for kindness--we didn't hire
her at all. She is a sixteen-footer and quite fast, in spite of
being rather broad in the beam. He let each of us steer her and told
us a great many names of things on her, which I forgot immediately.
Jerry always remembers things like that and can talk about
reef-cringles and topping-lift as if he really knew what they were