Meanwhile the donkey having run as far as he cared to, stood far down the beach, looking out across the waves, as calmly as if he could stand there for hours. Indeed one could hardly think that he was the same little beast that, a short time before, had bolted so furiously.

Captain Atherton, who had left the crowd, and quietly followed Neddy, now quickly approached him. He made no attempt to escape, but instead, allowed himself to be led as gently as if he really preferred to go that way.

Very meek he looked, as with the Captain's firm hand on the bridle, he approached the crowd that had watched him when he ran wildly along the beach.

Max was more than willing to clamber into the cart, and for the remainder of the route, be a part of the procession. Gwen, first flatly refused to ride, but after much coaxing she finally consented, and took her place beside Max, and so odd was the expression of her face that Max afterward said that he could not tell whether she was "mad or scared."

"Half mad and half scared," Gwen replied. "Mad to have to ride again with you, and scared for fear Neddy would run away again."

The donkey behaved very well, however. He had run all he cared to for one while, and he walked along behind the Sea King's chariot, as quietly as if he had never once dreamed of running away.

After a while, Gwen began to be so glad that she was indeed, in the pageant, that she looked about her, and actually smiled when some of the other children spoke to her.

At the end of the route, a fine lunch was served in a pavilion that looked out on the beach.

Captain Atherton had provided it, and it was heartily enjoyed by all who had taken part in the pageant, as well their friends who were also invited.

After the good things had been partaken of, the little guests danced to the music furnished by an orchestra that had been playing during the feasting, and eyes sparkled, and cheeks grew rosy with excitement.

It had been a delightful day, and for days afterward the children and those who had been spectators, talked of the lovely pageant, that had made its glittering way along the beach.

Captain Seaford sat just outside the door of his house, mending a net, or rather, attempting to mend it, for his mind was not upon his work, and from time to time he let the net lie on his knees, while he looked out across the dancing waves as he was hoping to see a vessel appear on the horizon.

He would sit thus for a time, and then shake his head and resume his work.

A dancing, springing footstep brought Sprite to the door, and as soon as she saw how eagerly he scanned the sea, she crept softly toward him, and laying her hand upon his shoulder, peeped around into his eyes.

"What you thinking of, Pa?" she asked quickly.

"Nothing much little girl," he said gently.

She lifted her fore-finger, nodding wisely as she spoke.

"It might not be much," she said, "but it's enough so you worry about it. Tell me, Pa, what's vexing you."

After a moment in which both were silent, she spoke again, but with her soft little arms about his neck.

"Was it about Ma, or me you were thinking?" she asked. "You looked so sober, that I know it was about someone that you cared for."

"I was thinking of you both, Sprite," he said, as he drew her closer, "and of the vessel that is almost a week overdue. If she comes in, the venture that I made on her cargo, will bring what some folks would call a small sum of money, but to us, it would be a small fortune."

"A week overdue! I'm not so selfish that I don't give a thought for those on board that have perished if she's lost. That's simply doubled the worry."

A warm tear fell on his rough hand, and he looked up quickly.

"Tut, tut! Little Sprite! Don't cry yet. It may be that she's only delayed, and will sail into port, with all hands on board and her cargo safe. You're too young to worry now. Cheer up! Pa's not really worrying yet, only wondering, little Sprite, wondering."

That would have settled the matter for some children, but Sprite saw more clearly, thought more deeply than does the average child, and she knew that he was trying to cheer and comfort her while at heart he was deeply concerned, for the fate of the vessel for which he had been eagerly waiting.

"But she could come in now and be all right, couldn't she?" Sprite asked. "Or is it so late that you almost know that something has happened to her?"

"No, no, Sprite. It's not too late for her to arrive safe and sound, but as the days pa.s.s I catch myself watching a bit closer for her coming. Why did the tears come, Sprite? I never like to have you grieving, dear."

"The tears always come if I think anything has disappointed you, or Ma," Sprite said, softly. "That's why I tried so hard to win the prize last Spring, when all the other pupils were working for it, too. I didn't care half so much about getting it for myself, as for you."

He drew her yet closer.

"Dear little Sprite," he said.

"And now I'm going to hope that the vessel will come sailing in with a big load of luck on board. I'll tell you one thing; I saw the moon over my right shoulder last night, and all the sailors say that's lucky."

Captain Seaford laughed at this bit of superst.i.tion offered to him as a crumb of comfort.

She laughed with him, and stooping, picked up a small star fish.

"I'll toss this up three times. If it comes down on the sand, twice out of three times right side up, it will be the same as saying that the vessel is safe, and will return all right."

Three times she tossed it up, only a few inches from the sand lest it break.

"Once! Right side up!" she cried, a rippling laugh following her words.

"Twice! Wrong side up! Oh, Pa, which will it be next time?"

A moment she stood irresolute as if half fearing to test their luck the third time. She turned the star fish over and over in her hand, then, as if she thought waiting useless, she tossed it lightly up.

"Oo--oo! Look! Look Pa!" she cried, "It's right side up! Pa, I do believe the vessel will come in safely. My! Wouldn't it have been awful if the star fish had fallen the other side up?"

"My little Sprite is a great comfort," he said, "and the tossing of the star fish is harmless fun, but I'd not like to think that you'd believe all the superst.i.tious yarns that the sailors tell."

"Oh, no," was the earnest reply. "I know that some of them could not be true, but there's one funny one that a sailor down on the pier told yesterday.

"He said you could go down stairs backwards after dark, and look into a mirror you held in your hand, and see something, I don't know what, but I'm going to try it. I'll try it just to know what I'd see, or to find out what would happen. He said something was sure, just _sure_ to happen."

"The something that would happen would be that you'd fall, and perhaps break your pretty neck," Captain Seaford said, "but as to what you'd see in the gla.s.s! Why, that is all nonsense. Here and there is a sailor that's as full of such silly notions as a weather vane.

"That sort of sailor listens to all the yarns he hears, believes them all, tells them all, and generally he isn't any too careful to tell them just as he heard them.

"He's apt to add just a little of his own nonsense to the yarn he heard to make it interesting."

CHAPTER VII

A WEDDING AT CLIFFMORE

The playmates who were at Cliffmore for the Summer were having a delightful time, but in a quiet way, John Gifford, or "Gyp," as he was still called, was very happy, and also very busy.