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It was a quiet time at the Sea Cliff House after the departure of the New York guests, but Leopold missed Rosabel more than all others, and even then began to look forward to her return. By the middle of July the Sea Cliff House was full.
"I wouldn't be worried if I were you, Mr. Vick. She'll turn up all right. I feel sure of it. If there is anything in the world I can do, I wish you would say so, Mr. Vick. Anything, sir. There is nothing I wouldn't do for you and Mrs. Vick and Rosabel. I adore that child. Why, I get positively sick all over when I let myself think that but, it's impossible!
"Maybe I AM lost," replied the girl, and Annie, failing to see anything cryptic in the words, laughed gaily at the quaintness of them. "Come on," she said, thrusting her arm through Rosabel's, "let's go back home. There's nothing doing here. And that wind cuts through one like a knife. Gee, it's fierce, isn't it?" "I don't want to go in yet," protested Rosabel, hanging back. "Let's wait awhile.
In meeting Rosabel Glen the girls from Dalton were both conscious of making the acquaintance of a society girl, one who though still in her teens, knew exactly what to say to be polite, and precisely what to do to show off to the very best possible advantage. She had called at the Cedars in the afternoon and remained just fifteen minutes, which time Mrs.
"I'm not afraid; and if I get wet, it won't hurt me," replied Rosabel, who actually enjoyed the flashing lightning and the booming thunder, and gazed with undaunted eyes upon the black masses of cloud that were rolling up from the south-east and from the north-west. "It looks just exactly as it did on the day the Waldo was wrecked," added Leopold.
"We call it warm weather down here; but I piled on the wood to suit your case." "I am so glad to come here again!" said Rosabel, stepping up to Leopold. "I am very much obliged to the fog for sending us to Rockhaven." "I shall consider the fog one of my best friends after this," laughed Leopold; and he conducted the young lady to the gangway.
He was a year older than when he had last seen Rosabel, and had grown much taller and stouter. An incipient mustache was coming on his upper lip, though he was not yet eighteen, on which he bestowed some attention.
There were a dozen men on her forecastle, and as the Rosabel approached her, a procession of gentlemen, closely muffled in heavy garments and rubber coats, filed up the companion-way, doubtless attracted to the deck by the incident of hailing another craft. "Schooner, ahoy!" shouted Leopold, as soon as he had made out the vessel.
The Rosabel was provided with one of those delectable musical instruments, whose familiar notes came to her skipper's ears. It was rather a necessity to have one, in order to avoid collisions; besides, it is fun for boys to make the most unearthly noises which mortal ear ever listened to. Leopold blew his fog-horn, and it was answered by a repetition of the sound to seaward.
"But we have two boats here, and we can't both return in the Rosabel." "Can't we tow the old boat?" "We can, but I don't like to do it, for the old boat will be sure to bump against the Rosabel, and scrape the paint off. Now, Stumpy, if you will take the new boat, and sail back in her, I will follow you in the old tub.
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