The second bell for the last meal of the day had again rung, and again the Breckenridge party waited on the verandah for delinquents¹. Mrs. Stark² positively³ declined to enter the dining-room until she had found out what had become of Montmorency. Mrs. Hungerford as positively declined to leave Mrs. Stark, and the Judge’s temper was again being sorely tried. Their twenty-mile drive and sight-seeing had sharpened appetites that already were quite sharp enough and the eminent⁴ jurist wanted his supper. To walk off his impatience⁵, if he could, he paced up and down the long verandah at a brisk rate, which did not tend to allay⁶ that uncomfortable feeling in his “inner man.”  
The hotel proprietor⁷ left the dining-room, where he personally superintended the serving of his guests, and joined the Judge, advising and complaining:
 
“We’ve the usual Saturday, week-end crowd in the house and I’d like to have your party get through in yonder soon’s you can, if you please. [Pg 159]I’m driven half-crazy, nights like this, by the demands and exactions of these transient people. I need every man-jack of the help and somebody says that Tommy has gone off with your lads. Tommy is small but he’s the best bell-boy in the house and—I’ll trounce him well when he gets back for serving me such a trick. Best get your dinner now, Judge, or I’ll not promise you’ll be able to later. Excuse me for urging, it’s in your own interest, and—There comes another load from somewhere! and I haven’t a room to give them. Cots in the parlor⁸, if they choose, nothing better?”
 
With that he hurried to meet the newcomers and the Judge said to Aunt Lu:
 
“We certainly should go in to table now. It does no good to sit here and wait. That doesn’t bring the runaways⁹ any sooner and they’d ought to go without their suppers if they’re so thoughtless of our comfort. Mrs. Stark, won’t you come?”
 
Then he observed that the lady was weeping copiously¹⁰. It was now fixed¹¹ in her mind that Monty was drowned. She had been told that he had gone sailing with that other dreadful bugler-boy the Judge had picked up, and, of course, this was the only explanation of his absence. She refused to be comforted and would have gone out in a boat herself to search for her son had she felt this would be of the slightest use. Indeed, she was fast becoming hysterical¹², and Mrs. Hungerford shook her head negatively when her brother begged her to leave her post and come with him.
 
[Pg 160]“Very well, then, sister, Miss Greatorex and the girls and I will go without you. Afterward¹³, when the boys come, I’ll try to have a special meal served for you somewhere. If I can! Come, Molly, Dolly; and I’m glad that you, Miss Greatorex, have some sense.”
 
So they departed and finding that Mrs. Stark was attracting the attention of the other guests upon the piazza¹⁴, Aunt Lucretia persuaded her to cross the street to the pavilion that stood upon the bluff¹⁵ above the water and that was now deserted¹⁶.
 
“From there we can see the boat as soon as it approaches, dear Mrs. Stark, and I feel sure you’ve no cause for such anxiety. Doubtless the boys have been fishing and have not realized how long. It is still bright daylight yonder and these are glorious moonlight nights. Even if they stayed out till bedtime they could see all right enough.”
 
Mrs. Stark followed the advice to seek the pavilion; yet simply because it brought her that much nearer her lost darling. But when a tray of supper was sent out to the two ladies there she refused to touch it and her grief spoiled her companion’s appetite as well.
 
After a little time Miss Greatorex and the girls retired¹⁷ to their rooms, at the Judge’s advice. He too had at last become infected with the anxious mother’s forebodings and felt that there was no need for Molly and Dolly to be also frightened. Then he joined the watchers in the pavilion, where the other guests refrained from disturbing them, [Pg 161]although it was a favorite resort on pleasant evenings.
 
Many a boat came back to the various small piers¹⁸ extending from the shore into the water, here and there, but none was the little “Digby Chicken.” Her owner took his place at the end of the pier¹⁹ and sat down to wait. Of all his boats she was the newest and prettiest. She had sailed out into the sunlight glistening²⁰ with white paint, her new sail white and unstained, and on her shining hull²¹ a decoration of herring surrounding her red-lettered name. It had been the builder’s conceit²² to omit the name, the string of painted fish answering for it to all but “foreigners;” but as it had been built for the use of these “foreigners” or “tourists” the printed words had finally been added.
 
Minutes passed. Quarter-hours; an hour; two of them; even three. There was no longer any moonlight. The distant cliffs and headlands became invisible. One could only guess where the Gap strove to close the entrance to an outer world. The hotel verandah became more and more deserted, and one by one the lights in the upper windows shone out for a time, then disappeared. Gradually all lights vanished save those in the lobby and a faint glimmer²³ from a corridor above.
 
Though wraps has been early sent out to the anxious watchers in the pavilion, now heavy steamer rugs were brought, to keep out that penetrating²⁴ chill. The Judge had on his heaviest overcoat and yet shivered, himself covering his long legs with [Pg 162]a thick blanket. He had made several efforts to induce Mrs. Stark to go indoors but all had failed.
 
The fog that was slowly rising when the boat-owner took his station on the little quay²⁵ below had crept nearer and nearer into shore, and finally enveloped²⁶ everything and hidden it. So dense²⁷ it was that from his bench on one side the circular pavilion the Judge could barely make out the white pillars on its opposite side. A lamp had been lighted in the roof but against this Mrs. Stark had vehemently²⁸ protested, because it made that wall of white mist seem closer and more impenetrable, and without it she fancied that her eye could still pierce the distance, still discover any incoming craft.
 
About midnight the wind rose and the fog began to thin and scatter²⁹. The boatman on the pier had long ago left it, forced off by the rising tide, and now sat floating in one of the row-boats fastened there. He had put on his oilskins and set his oars³⁰ in readiness for the first sign of distress³¹ on the face of the waters; but he had about given up hope of his pretty “Digby Chicken.” That a couple of touring lads, even though one had protested that he was a good sailor, that these should come safely through a night like this seemed unlikely; but now that the wind was rising and the fog lifting, he drew his boat close under the pole at the pier’s end and lighted the lantern which swung there. There was now a chance that its gleam might be seen from beyond and there had been none before.
 
[Pg 163]Then another time of waiting, which ended with the boatman pulling out from shore. The watchers above had heard nothing, had not even seen him leave, although the lantern had faintly shown him riding upon the wave, moored³² to the pier by a rope.
 
But now, rubbing her strained eyes to clear their vision Mrs. Stark broke the long silence with a cry:
 
“The man! He isn’t there? He’s gone—to meet them!”
 
She was as sure of this now as she had been before that her son was drowned, and Mrs. Hungerford slipped an arm about her waist in pity. She dared not think what the result would be of a fresh disappointment.
 
However, their long vigil was really ended. The trained ear of the boatman had caught a faint halloo from somewhere on the water and had rowed toward the sound with all his strength and speed. At intervals³³ he had paused to answer and to listen—and the now swiftly dispersing³⁴ fog enabled him also to see—and finally to utter a little malediction³⁵ under his breath. It scarcely needed the glass he raised to show him the “Digby Chicken” riding quietly on the water not more than half a league off shore. Her sail was furled, she looked taut³⁶ and trim, and he could discern a figure at her prow³⁷ which raised its arms and again hallooed.
 
“All’s well that ends well.” But it might not have been so well. The full story of that night’s work did not transpire³⁸ at once. All that Mrs. Stark [Pg 164]knew was that she had her son once more within her close embrace; that he had been helped, even carried, up the narrow pier and placed dripping within her arms. She ascribed his soaked condition to the fact of the fog and not to the truth; and it was not until daylight came that he told her that. Then lying warm in his bed, ............