did. The men mopped their foreheads when they thought no one was

looking, and the women used _papier poudrée_ slyly in their handkerchiefs. Only Ariadne had none to use, and kept cool by sheer force of will. I was all right, being only a child.

Ariadne was sitting a little apart, with me, and she was writing a Poem to the sea, and she told me in a whisper as far as she had got--

"The patient world about their feet Lay still, and weltered in the heat."

"What else could it do but lie still?" I said, and suddenly just then Simon got up--

"I say! I'm going to take the kids for a sail! Bring your new mug, Missy, and take your tiny sister by the hand, so that she doesn't fall and break her nose on the cliff steps."

After the mug incident I don't see how anybody could have objected, or tried to prevent Ariadne from taking the advantages of being treated as a baby, and I expect that was what Simon thought. Anyhow, Ariadne got up, and went with Simon and me as bold as any lion. It is a well-known fact that Lady Scilly can't stand the sea in small quantities like what you get in a boat, though of course she goes yachting cheerfully. None of the others were enough interested in Simon to care to move, and take any exercise in this heat. George gave her an approving little nod as she passed him.

We had a lovely sail of a whole hour's duration. We had an old boatman wearing his whiskers stiffened with tallow, who told us he had been a smuggler, and treated Ariadne and Simon as if they were an engaged couple, out for a spree, with me thrown in for a make-weight. It came on to blow a little, and got much cooler. Ariadne lost her hat, and had to borrow a red silk handkerchief of Simon's and tie a knot in it at all four corners and wear it so. She looked most proud and happy, as if she had on a crown, not a hat.

When Lady Scilly saw the latest thing in hats, she cried out, "Oh, my poor Ariadne!" and helped her to hide herself more or less in the waggonette going home. I didn't know before how becoming the cap was!