"I hope you won't mind its being a little rough, Mrs. Maynard," he said,
breathing quickly. "Adams thinks we're going to have it pretty fresh
before we get back."

"Indeed, I don't want to go, then!" cried Mrs. Maynard, in petulant
disappointment, letting her wraps fall upon a chair.

Mr. Libby looked at Grace, who haughtily rejected a part in the
conspiracy. "I wish you to go, Louise," she declared indignantly. "I will
take the risk of all the harm that comes to you from the bad weather."
She picked up the shawls, and handed them to Mr. Libby, on whom her eyes
blazed their contempt and wonder. It cost a great deal of persuasion and
insistence now to make Mrs. Maynard go, and he left all this to Grace,
not uttering a word till he gave Mrs. Maynard his hand to help her down
the steps. Then he said, "Well, I wonder what Miss Breen does want."

"I 'm sure I don't know," said the other. "At first she did n't want me
to go, this morning, and now she makes me. I do hope it is n't going to
be a storm."

"I don't believe it is. A little fresh, perhaps. I thought you might be
seasick."

"Don't you remember? I'm never seasick! That's one of the worst signs."

"Oh, yes."

"If I could be thoroughly seasick once, it would be the best thing I
could do."