"All right. But just wait and listen. We wanted to get away early and come over here after you," said Ferd. "And the professor began to give us one of his talks. This time it was on literature. By and by he says:

"'We are told that it took, Gray, author of 'An Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard,' seven years to write that famous poem."

"'Gee!' exclaimed Tubby. 'If he'd only known stenography how much better off he'd been.'

"'Ahem! how do you prove that, Mr. Blaisdell?' inquired the professor, quite amazed.

"'Why, we took that as a lesson in the shorthand cla.s.s of the Commercial Department last spring,' said Tubby, 'and some of the real good ones could do Gray's Elegy, from dictation, in seven minutes. See what Gray would have saved if he'd known shorthand!'

"And that completely shut up the professor," said Ferd, as the laughter broke out. "He hasn't recovered from the shock yet."

The _Happy Day_ was turned toward the Forge first, skirting the sh.o.r.e all the way. That brought them, of course, close to Jarley's Landing. Polly was just pushing out in a little skiff.

Wyn and Frank waved to her; but the other girls did not know her, of course, and only watched the boatman's daughter curiously.

"How well she rows!" exclaimed Percy.

"Say! but she's a fine looking girl," said Dave, earnestly. "What handsome arms she's got."

"Handsome is as handsome does," remarked Bess, snappishly.

"She's as brown as an Indian," observed Mina.

"That doesn't hurt her," declared Dave, stoutly. "Is _she_ the girl you were speaking about, Wyn?"

"She is Polly Jarley, and she is my friend," responded Wynifred, quietly. "And I believe her to be as good as she is beautiful."

"Then there are wings sprouting under her blouse," laughed Frank; "for there's no girl _I_ ever saw who could hold a candle to Polly for right down beauty."

"She looks so sad," said Mina, softly.

"Why shouldn't she be sad?" Wyn demanded, "with everybody talking about her father the way they do?"

"Come, girls!" commanded Mrs. Havel. "Don't gossip. Find some other topic of conversation."

"Ha! quite so," cried Frank, with a grimace upon her own homely face. "A girl may be as pretty as a picture and spoil it all by an ugly frame of mind. How's _that_ for a spark thrown from the wheel?"

"Stand back, audience!" exclaimed Dave. "Something like that is likely to happen any minute."

"I don't really see how the old professor gets on with you boys at all,"

remarked Bessie Lavine, with a sigh. "You'd worry the life out of an angel."

"But Professor Skillings is _not_ an angel--thanks be!" exclaimed Dave.

"He's a good old scout!" drawled Tubby.

"He just hasn't forgotten what it is to be a boy," began Ferd.

"But, goodness me!" cried Frankie. "He's forgotten about everything else, at some time or other; hasn't he?"

"Not what he's learned out of books and from observation," declared Dave. "But my goodness! he _is_ absent-minded. Yesterday a couple of us fellows chopped up a good heap of firewood. We don't have a fancy stove like you girls, but just an out-of-doors fireplace. After supper the dear old prof, said he'd wash the dishes, and we dumped all the pots and pans together and--what do you think?"

"Couldn't think," drawled Frank. "I'm too lazy. Tell us without making your story so complicated."

"Why, we found he had carried an armful of firewood down to the sh.o.r.e and was industriously swashing the sticks up and down in the water, thinking he was washing the supper dishes."

With similar conversation, and merry badinage, the journey around Lake Honotonka progressed. The sh.o.r.es of the lake, in full summer dress, were beautiful. There was an awning upon the motor boat, so the rapidly mounting sun did not trouble the party. But it _was_ hot at noonday, and through Dave's gla.s.ses they could see that the sails on the mill behind Windmill Farm were still. There wasn't air enough stirring, even at that height, to keep the arms in motion, and down here on the water the temperature grew baking.

They ran into a cool cove and went ash.o.r.e for dinner. n.o.body wanted anything hot, and so, as there was a splendid spring at hand, they made lemonade and ate sandwiches of potted chicken and hard-boiled eggs which the boys had been thoughtful enough to bring along. The girls had crisp salad leaves to go with the chicken, too, and some nice mayonnaise.

Altogether even Tubby was willing to p.r.o.nounce the "cold bite"

satisfying.

"And I'm no hypocrite," declared the fat youth, earnestly. "When I say a thing I mean it."

"What _is_ your idea of a hypocrite, Tubby?" demanded Wyn, laughing.

"A boy who comes to school smiling," replied Tubby, promptly.

After a while a little breeze ruffled the surface of the lake again and the _Happy Day_ was made ready for departure. They continued then toward the west, where lay the preserve known as Braisely Park, in which there were at least a dozen rich men's lodges. They were all in sight from the lake--at some point, at least. Each beautiful place had a water privilege, and the landings and boathouses were very picturesque. There was a whole fleet of craft here, too, ranging in size from a cedar canoe to a steam yacht. The latter belonged to Dr. Shelton, the man who had accused John Jarley of stealing the motor boat _Bright Eyes_ and the five thousand dollars' worth of silver images from the ruined temples of Yucatan.

"And of course," said Wyn, warmly, "that is nonsense. For if Polly and her father had done such a thing, they would turn the silver into money; wouldn't they, and stop living in poverty?"

"Well, it looks mighty funny where that boat and all could have gone,"

Bessie remarked.

"If she sank as quickly as he says, the wreck must lie off Gannet Island somewhere," remarked Dave, reflectively.

"Oh! I wish we could find it," commented Wyn.

"If it ever sank at all," sneered Bessie.

But it was almost impossible to quarrel with Wyn Mallory. Frank would have "got hot" a dozen times at Bess while the party chanced to discuss the Jarleys and their troubles. But the captain of the Go-Ahead Club was patient.

Bye and bye--and after mid-afternoon--the _Happy Day_ came around to the west end of Gannet Island. Up among the trees a glint of white betrayed the presence of the boys' tent. In a little sheltered cove below the site of Cave-in-the-Wood Camp, danced the fleet of canoes.

Nothing would do but the girls and Mrs. Havel must go ash.o.r.e and see the cave and the camp.

"And we can have tea," said Ferd. "How's that, girls? Professor Skillings has got a whole canister of best gunpowder in his private stores--and there he is on that log, examining specimens."

"Oh, dear me!" cried Frankie, "tea isn't going to satisfy the gnawing of _my_ appet.i.te."

"How about a fish-fry?" demanded Dave, swerving the motor boat suddenly away from the landing.

"Where'll you get your fish?" cried Percy Havel.

"In the fish store at Meade's Forge," scoffed Ferdinand Roberts.

"That's too far to run for supper--and back again--this afternoon, boys," said Mrs. Havel.