The Real Charlotte. 167 



ment of the Serpolette^ that he would certainly be back in a 

 few minutes, and that in any case, the lake was as calm as 

 the conventional mill-pond. Inwardly he was cursing him- 

 self for having yielded to Hawkins in putting in to Bruff ; he 

 was furious with Francie for the vulgar liberties taken by her 

 with the steam-whistle, an instrument employed by all true 

 steam-launchers in the most abstemious way ; and lastly, he 

 was indignant with Hawkins for taking his boat without his 

 permission, and leaving him here, as isolated from all means 

 of escape, and as unprotected, as if his clothes had been 

 stolen while he was bathing. 



The party proceeded moodily into the house, and, as 

 moodily, proceeded to partake of tea. It was just about the 

 time that Mrs. Lambert was asking that nice, kind Miss 

 Dysart for another cup of very weak tea — " Hog-wash, in- 

 deed, as Mr. Lambert calls it " — that the launch was sighted 

 by her proprietor crossing the open space of water beyond 

 Bruff Point, and heading for Lismoyle. Almost immediately 

 afterwards Mrs. Lambert received the look from her husband 

 which intimated that the time had arrived for her to take 

 her departure, and some instinct told her that it would be 

 advisable to relinquish the prospect of the second cup and 

 to go at once. 



If Mr. Lambert's motive in hurrying back to Lismoyle was 

 the hope of finding the steam-launch there, his sending along 

 our friend the black mare, till her sleek sides were in a 

 lather of foam, was unavailing. As he drove on to the quay 

 the Serpolette was already steaming back to Bruff round the 

 first of the miniature headlands that jagged the shore, and 

 the good turkey-hen's twitterings on the situation received 

 even less attention than usual, as her lord pulled the mare's 

 head round and drove home to Rosemount. 



The afternoon dragged wearily on at Bruff ; Lady Dysart's 

 mood alternating between anger and fright as dinner-time 

 came nearer and nearer and there was still no sign of the 

 launch. 



" What will Charlotte Mullen say to me ? " she wailed, as 

 she went for the twentieth time to the window and saw no 

 sign of the runaways upon the lake vista that was visible 

 from it. She found small consolation in the other two 

 occupants of the drawing-room. Christopher, reading the 



