“I’ll talk to the crew about it and see what he can do.  If we get becalmed we can always throw somebody overboard, of course.  Well, I must go in and finish my toilet.”

We got up and climbed slowly back to the house.

“And then,” I said, “then for the heavy meal.”

II.—­BECALMED

“Well,” said Dahlia, giving up the tiller with a sigh, “if this is all that you and Joe can do in the way of a breeze, you needn’t have worried.”

“Don’t blame the crew,” said Archie nobly, “he did his best.  He sat up all night whistling.”

“Are we moving?” asked Myra, from a horizontal position on the shady side of the mainsail.

“We are not,” I said, from a similar position on the sunny side.  “Let’s get out.”

Simpson took off his yachting cap and fanned himself with a nautical almanac.  “How far are we from anywhere?” he asked cheerfully.

“Miles,” said Archie.  “To be more accurate, we are five miles from a public-house, six from a church, four from a post-office, and three from the spacious walled-in kitchen-garden and tennis-court.  On the other hand, we are quite close to the sea.”

“You will never see your friends again, Simpson.  They will miss you ... at first ... perhaps; but they will soon forget.  The circulation of the papers that you wrote for will go up, the brindled bull-pup will be fed by another and a smaller hand, but otherwise all will be as it was before.”

My voice choked, and at the same moment something whizzed past me into the sea.

“Yachting cap overboard!  Help!” cried Myra.

“You aren’t in The Spectator office now, Simpson,” said Archie severely, as he fished with the boat-hook.  “There is a time for ballyragging.  By the way, I suppose you do want it back again?”

“It’s my fault,” I confessed remorsefully; “I told him yesterday I didn’t like it.”

“Myra and I do like it, Mr Simpson.  Please save it, Archie.”

Archie let it drip from the end of the boat-hook for a minute, and then brought it in.

“Morning, Sir Thomas,” I said, saluting it as it came on board.  “Lovely day for a sail.  We’ve got the new topmast up, but Her Grace had the last of the potted-meat for lunch yesterday.”

Simpson took his cap and stroked it tenderly.  “Thirteen and ninepence in the Buckingham Palace Road,” he murmured.  “Thanks, old chap.”

Quiet settled down upon the good ship Armadillo again.  There was no cloud in the sky, no ripple on the water, no sound along the deck.  The land was hazy in the distance; hazy in the distance was public-house, church, post-office, walled-in kitchen-garden and tennis-court.  But in the little cabin Joe was making a pleasant noise with plates....

“Splendid,” said Archie, putting down his glass and taking out his pipe.  “Now what shall we do?  I feel full of energy.”