"The forecast for to-day," says he, looking at the water again, "is
cloudy in the forenoon, but clearing later on. Wind sou'east, changing
to south and sou'west."

"Right you are!" says Peter, joyful. "We start for Setuckit, then. And
here's where the South Shore Weather Bureau hands another swift jolt to
your Uncle Sam."

So, after breakfast, the catboats loaded up, the girls giggling and
screaming, and the men boarders dressed in what they hoped was sea-togs.
They sailed away 'round the lighthouse and headed up the shore, and the
wind was sou'east sure and sartin, but the "clearing" part wasn't in
sight yet.

Beriah didn't watch 'em go. He stayed in the shanty. But by and by, when
Eben drove the buggy out of the barn and Emma come skipping down the
piazza steps, I see him peeking out of the little winder.

The Kelly critter had all sail sot and colors flying. Her dress was some
sort of mosquito netting with wall-paper posies on it, and there was
more ribbons flapping than there is reef-p'ints on a mainsail. And
her hat! Great guns! It looked like one of them pictures you see in a
flower-seed catalogue.

"Oh!" she squeals, when she sees the buggy. "Oh! Mr. Cobb. Ain't you
afraid to go in that open carriage? It looks to me like rain."

But Eben waved his flipper, scornful. "My forecast this morning," says
he, "is cloudy now, but clearing by and by. You trust to me, Mis' Kelly.
Weather's my business."