It was absolutely insufferable in rain.
But when the boat steamed out of Charlottetown harbor things took a turn for the better.

The rain ceased and the sun began to burst out goldenly now and again between the rents in the clouds, burnishing the gray seas with copper-hued radiance, and lighting up the mists that curtained the Island's red shores with gleams of gold foretokening a fine day after all.

Besides, Charlie Sloane promptly became so seasick that he had to go below, and Anne and Gilbert were left alone on deck.
"I am very glad that all the Sloanes get seasick as soon as they go on water," thought Anne mercilessly.

"I am sure I couldn't take my farewell look at the 'ould sod' with Charlie standing there pretending to look sentimentally at it, too." "Well, we're off," remarked Gilbert unsentimentally.
"Yes, I feel like Byron's 'Childe Harold'-- only it isn't really my 'native shore' that I'm watching," said Anne, winking her gray eyes vigorously.

"Nova Scotia is that, I suppose.