The barometer says nothing, neither the sky nor the water; the skipper has the "feel" that out yonder there's a big blow moving. And a custom had grown up of a general tea at four o’clock, under the auspices of a Miss Garvice, a tall and graceful girl of distinguished intellectual incompetence, in whom the hostess instinct seemed to be abnormally developed. In the afternoon he probably loafs in his pajamas. Jack was so harrassed that he felt half inclined to stand at bay. Left alone, Jonathan lighted a lamp, and, opening the trap-door, descended the secret stairs.
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