Part 32 (1/2)

”Calvin's outdone himself,” remarked Miss Martha. ”He must have taken a great fancy to her.”

”It looks that way,” responded Thinkright.

”And you don't know what he could possibly mean by that poetical name, do you?”

”I haven't an idea,” returned her companion, well pleased that such was the case, for he could see that otherwise it might go hard with him.

”And I daresay you're quite as bewitched with her as Calvin,” pursued Miss Lacey curiously.

”I'm under her little thumb, but luckily she doesn't know it,” was the reply.

”Well, I think it's high time I came over to get acquainted with her myself,” remarked Miss Martha.

”High time, Martha,” returned Thinkright, smiling. ”It's high time you got in the game.”

CHAPTER XVIII

HAWK ISLAND

An hour later Miss Martha had the escort of her niece down to the sh.o.r.e again. She peered about alertly for a sign of her boatman.

”Now I told Benny that I shouldn't fail”--she began with annoyance.

”Oh, there he is,” for the top of the mast was visible beyond a farther jutting point of rock. ”Benny!” she called. His hand appeared and waved a signal. ”I suppose we shall have to go over there. I should like to know why he couldn't stay where I told him to. Benny,” as they drew near enough to be heard, ”you gave me a start for a minute. Why didn't you wait for me in that same place?”

Benny glanced toward Sylvia. ”Thought yew mightn't care to squat on that rock all night,” he drawled imperturbably.

”What do you mean? Oh--wasn't the tide right?”

”No; most likely it didn't hear what you said. Anyways, it didn't wait.

It kep' on a-goin' down jest the same.”

Miss Martha's lips drew in. ”You absurd boy. Benny, this is my niece, another Miss Lacey; and Sylvia, this is Benny Merritt. We couldn't get along without him at the island; and now we must fly. How's the wind, Benny?”

”Pretty good chance; we'll have to beat some.”

”Well, you mustn't let the boat tip,” responded Miss Martha, as she crept gingerly along the slippery rocks, and helped by Sylvia jumped in and took her seat. ”Don't fall so in love with The Rosy Cloud that you can't come to see us, Sylvia, and do be careful with your new toy. It doesn't look much more substantial than a cloud to me. Benny, look _out_!” For the wind had seized the sail and flapped it noisily before it set firmly. The last words Sylvia caught were, ”You are letting it tip now. You know I don't like it, Benny.”

Sylvia laughed as she sprang up the bank. Even in this brief visit she had observed how habitually the uppermost thought in her aunt's mind effervesced into speech, and she saw how natural had been Miss Martha's lack of repression at Hotel Frisbie. She felt for Benny Merritt with his nervous pa.s.senger, but her sympathy was wasted. When Miss Lacey sailed alone with Benny she always kept up an intermittent stream of directions and suggestions to which the boy paid not the slightest attention.

”Doin' my best, Miss Marthy,” he used to reply sometimes. ”If ye say so I'll stop and let ye get out and walk.”

Each time the boat had to come about for a new tack, necessitating the sail's pa.s.sing over Miss Martha's head, the air was vibrant with her small shrieks and louder suggestions; but to-day, every time they settled down for the smooth run, a pensiveness fell upon her.

”The Mill Farm is looking real prosperous, Benny,” she remarked during one of these calms.

”I s'pose so,” returned the boy. ”More folks comin' to the islands every summer. More folks to want their truck.”

”Seems to me,” observed Miss Martha, ”I used to hear that things weren't very pleasant between the mainland folks and the islanders.”