"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 massed 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.
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