"The matter is," said Mr. Fairfield, "we are becalmed. There is no breeze and consequently nothing to make our bonny ship move, so she stands still."

"And are we going to stay right here all day?" asked Ethelyn.

"It looks very much like it, unless an ocean steamer comes along and gives us a tow."

Aunt Alice and the girls of the party soon had the luncheon ready, and the merry feast was made. As Frank remarked, it was a very different thing to sit there in the broiling sun and eat sandwiches and devilled eggs, or to consume the same viands with the yacht madly flying along in rolling waves and dashing spray.

The afternoon palled a little. Youthful enthusiasm and determined good temper could make light of several hours of discomfort, but toward three o'clock the sun's rays grew unbearably hot, the glare from the water was very trying, and the mosquitoes were something awful.

Guy Morris, who probably spent more of his time in a boat than any of the others, declared that he had never seen such a day.

Mr. Fairfield felt sorry for Ethelyn, who had never had such an experience before, and so he exerted himself to entertain her, but she resisted all his attempts, and even though Patty came to her father's a.s.sistance, they found it impossible to make their guest happy.

Reginald was no better. He growled and fretted about the heat and other discomforts and he was so pompous and overbearing in his manner that it is not surprising that the boys of Vernondale cordially disliked him.

"As long as we can't go sailing," said Ethelyn, "I should think we would go home."

"We can't get home," said Patty patiently. She had already explained this several times to her cousin. "There is no breeze to take us anywhere."

"Well, what will happen to us, then? Shall we stay here forever?"

"There ought to be a breeze in two or three days," said Kenneth Harper, who could not resist the temptation to chaff this ill-tempered young person. "Say by Tuesday or Wednesday, I should think a capful of wind might puff up in some direction."

"It is coming now," said Frank Elliott suddenly; "I certainly feel a draught."

"Put something around you, my boy," said his mother, "I don't want you to take cold."

"Let me get you a wrap," said Frank, smiling back at his mother, who was fanning herself with a folded newspaper.

"The wind is coming," said Guy Morris, and his serious face was a sharp contrast to the merry ones about him, "and it's no joke this time. Within ten minutes there'll be a stiff breeze, and within twenty a howling gale, or I'm no sailor."

As he spoke he was busily preparing to reef the mainsail, and he consulted hurriedly with the sailors.

At first no one could believe Guy's prophecies would come true, but in a few moments the cool breeze was distinctly felt, the sun went under a cloud, and the boat began to move. It was a sudden squall, and the clouds thickened and ma.s.sed themselves into great hills of blackness; the water turned dark and began to rise in little threatening billows, the wind grew stronger and stronger, and then without warning the rain came.

Thunder and lightning added to the excitement of the occasion, and in less than fifteen minutes the smooth sunny glare of water was at the mercy of a fearful storm.

The occupants of the boat seemed to know exactly how to behave in these circ.u.mstances. Mrs. Elliott and the girls of the party went down into the little cabin, which held them all, but which was very crowded.

Guy Morris took command, and the other boys, and men, too, for that matter, did exactly as he told them.

Ethelyn began to cry. This was really not surprising, as the girl had never before had such an experience and was exceedingly nervous as well as very much frightened.

Mrs. Elliott appreciated this, and putting her arm around the sobbing child, comforted her with great tact and patience.

The storm pa.s.sed as quickly as it came. There had been danger, both real and plentiful, but no bad results attended, except that everybody was more or less wet with the rain.

The boys were more and the girls less, but to Ethelyn's surprise, they all seemed to view the whole performance quite as a matter of course, and accepted the situation with the same merry philosophy that they had shown in the morning.

The thermometer had fallen many degrees, and the cold wind against damp clothing caused a most unpleasant sensation.

"It's an ill wind that blows n.o.body good," said Guy. "This breeze will take us home, spinning."

"I'm glad of it," said Ethelyn snappishly; "I've had quite enough of the sailing party."

Frank confided to Patty afterward that he felt like responding that the sailing party had had quite enough of her, but instead he said politely:

"Oh, don't be so easily discouraged! Better luck next time."

To which Ethelyn replied, still crossly, "There'll be no next time for me."

CHAPTER XIX

MORE COUSINS

Patty was not sorry when her Elmbridge cousins concluded their visit, and the evening after their departure she sat on the veranda with her father, talking about them.

"It's a pity," she said, "that Ethelyn is so ill-tempered; for she's so pretty and graceful, and she's really very bright and entertaining when she is pleased. But so much of the time she is displeased, and then there's no doing anything with her."

"She's selfish, Patty," said her father; "and selfishness is just about the worst fault in the catalogue. A selfish person cannot be happy. You probably learned something to that effect from your early copybooks, but it is none the less true."

"I know it, papa, and I do think that selfish ness is the worst fault there is; and though I fight against it, do you know I sometimes think that living here alone with you, and having my own way in everything, is making me rather a selfish individual myself."

"I don't think you need worry about that," said a hearty voice, and Kenneth Harper appeared at the veranda steps. "Pardon me, I wasn't eavesdropping, but I couldn't help overhearing your last remark, and I think it my duty to set your mind at rest on that score. Selfishness is not your besetting sin, Miss Patty Fairfield, and I can't allow you to libel yourself."

"I quite agree with you, Ken," said Mr. Fairfield. "My small daughter may not be absolutely perfect, but selfishness is not one of her faults. At least, that's the conclusion I've come to, after observing her pretty carefully through her long and checkered career."

"Well, if I'm not selfish, I will certainly become vain if so many compliments are heaped upon me," said Patty, laughing; "and I'm sure I value very highly the opinions of two such wise men."

"Oh, say a man and a boy," said young Harper modestly.

"All right, I will," said Patty, "but I'm not sure which is which.

Sometimes I think papa more of a boy than you are, Ken."

"Now you've succeeded in complimenting us both at once," said Mr.

Fairfield, "which proves you clever as well as unselfish."

"Well, never mind me for the present," said Patty; "I want to talk about some other people, and they are some more of my cousins."

"A commodity with which you seem to be well supplied," said Kenneth.

"Indeed I am; I have a large stock yet in reserve, and I think, papa, that I'll ask Bob and b.u.mble to visit me for a few weeks."

"Do," said Mr. Fairfield, "if you would enjoy having them, but not otherwise. You've just been through a siege of entertaining cousins, and I think you deserve a vacation."