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Updated: June 12, 2025
A garden party, by all means, said Miss Dulcibella, and she gave the young ladies to understand that the whole thing was her doing. 'I waited till Sarah was in a good temper, she told her satellites, half a dozen or so of the elder girls who worshipped her, and who, in the slang phraseology of the school, were known as Miss Dulcie's 'cracks, 'and then I proposed a garden party.
And now Ida Palliser came into the butterfly-room, yawning wearily, to brush herself up a little before tea, knowing that Miss Pew and her younger sister, Miss Dulcibella who devoted herself to dress and the amenities of life generally would scrutinize her with eyes only too ready to see anything amiss. The butterfly-room was not empty.
Anchor out all right? Let's get below. We smoked and talked till the new flood, lapping softly round the Dulcibella, raised her without a jar. Of course, I argued, there might be nothing in it. The visitor might have been a commonplace thief; an apparently deserted yacht was a tempting bait. Davies scouted this possibility from the first. 'They're not like that in Germany, he said.
There was no sound of wind outside, but the Dulcibella had begun to move in her sleep, as it were, rolling drowsily to some taint send of the sea, with an occasional short jump, like the start of an uneasy dreamer. 'What does it look like? I called from my sofa. I had to repeat the question. 'Rain coming, said Davies, returning, 'and possibly wind; but we're safe enough here.
Let's go indoors and see your playthings." Here it was the same thing over again, for she found something slighting to say even of the Lady Dulcibella, who was sitting prepared to receive visitors in her best pink frock. "Can she talk?" asked Ethelwyn. "My last new doll says `papa, `mama."
'Let go now! was the order after a minute, and the chain ran out with a long-drawn moan. The Dulcibella snubbed up to it and jauntily faced the North Sea and the growing night. 'There we are! said Davies, as we finished stowing the mainsail, 'safe and snug in four fathoms in a magnificent sand-harbour, with no one to bother us and the whole of it to ourselves.
The Weser estuary was on my starboard hand, but the whole place was a lee-shore and a mass of unknown banks just look at them. I ran on, the Dulcibella doing her level best, but we had some narrow shaves of being pooped. She wore round again on the course as I drew level, and we were alongside for a bit.
I was tempted to raise the North Sea question, just to watch Davies under the thunder of rebukes which would follow. But I refrained from a wish to be tender with him, now that all was going so well. The Frisian Islands were an extravagant absurdity now. I did not even refer to them as we pulled back to the Dulcibella, after swearing eternal friendship with the good pilot and his family.
I was prepared for what I saw the stormy sea for leagues around, and a chaos of breakers where our dream-island had stood and took it quietly, even with a sort of elation. The Dulcibella faced the storm as doggedly as ever, plunging her bowsprit into the sea and flinging green water over her bows. A wave of confidence and affection for her welled through me.
"What a long one!" said Nancy; "must we call her all of it?" "I think it's a beautiful name," said Pennie. "Almost as good as `Dulcibella. And then we might call her `Ethel, or `Winnie, they're both pretty." "Well, you can settle that afterwards," said their mother. "You must wait and see what she likes best to be called.
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