"I--I--Of course we--" stammered the girl.

"To be sure! Ah, no hat! I should have foreseen. Very stupid of me not
to've brought a hat or parasol. But I dare say you'll make out till we
get back aboard ship."

His conventional manner and quiet conversational tone alike tended to
ease her of her embarrassment. By the time she had slipped on the coat
and seated herself, the crimson blushes that had flooded her tanned
cheeks were fast subsiding, and she was able to respond with a fair
degree of composure: "That was extremely thoughtful of you, Lord
Avondale!"

"Not at all, not at all," he disclaimed. "Cocks'n, if you'll be so
kind as to go forward, I'll take the tiller. Tom, old man! don't stand
there all day. You'll get your feet damp. Climb in!"

"No; pull out," replied Blake, his eyes hardening with sudden resolve.
"I forgot something. Got to go back to the cleft. You take Jen--Miss
Leslie aboard at once."

"Oh, no, Tom!" hastily protested the girl. "We'll wait here for you."

"Here?" he demanded. "And without your hat?"

Miss Leslie put her scarred and begrimed little hands to her
dishevelled hair.

Blake went on in an authoritative tone: "It won't do for you to get a