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Lilian and Cathalina had stopped to chat a moment with Isabel Hunt and Virginia Hope, two juniors, who had come down to the beach to see them off. The sun fell on Lilian’s gold locks and Cathalina’s light brown ones as they leaned over the side of the boat talking. Neither girl wore a hat, but each had a silk scarf around her neck to tie over flying hair if the wind proved too troublesome.

“Why didn’t we have a senior-junior affair, Isabel,” Lilian was saying, “So you and Virgie could come along?”

“Couldn’t overload the Greycliff,” replied Isabel. “Now if it looks like a storm don’t start back in a hurry,” warned she. “I don’t want to walk the floor the way I did two years ago on the night of the wreck!”

“No danger, is there, Mickey,” replied Cathalina, looking at the ubiquitous and efficient Mickey, who was stowing away various impedimenta in the little cabin of the Greycliff. Mickey was still the chief life-saver and mainstay of Greycliff school in more lines than one.

“The weather’s goin’ to be foine,” replied Mickey, without much enthusiasm, for he was used to the ways of girls. “And oime goin’ meself this trip.”