A few evenings after the meeting at Gretta's, Uncle Fred came in, and, pulling Winnie's ears according to his custom, said:
"I think it's my turn to treat, Winnifred; at least Kitty says it is. She and I were out boating yesterday, and she suggests that I take you and the other Joans for a row Friday evening."
"Oh, Uncle Fred," cried Winnie, "that will be grand! I'll tell the girls about it to-morrow. Who all are to be invited?"
"'You-all,' as our Southern friends say, and your Aunt Kitty; us seven, and no more, as the poet expresses it."
The girls accepted with eagerness. But on Thursday Ernestine did not come to school. Winnie went around Friday noon to learn the reason of such an unusual occurrence, and found that Mrs. Alroy was sick in bed, and although she had protested against her daughter's staying at home, Ernestine could not be prevailed upon to leave her.
The other girls were, of course, very sorry not to have her go, but soon forgot their disappointment in the excitement of anticipation. At a quarter past six, the hour agreed upon, Fannie was ringing Mrs. Burton's door bell, while Gretta and Miriam were just entering the gate. Winnie and her uncle and aunt were quite ready, so they all started out. After a short ride in the "Green Line," they were transferred to the Covington and Newport cars on their way to the river. None of the girls had been in that neighborhood often enough to be familiar with it, and everything they saw had the interest of novelty for them. When they reached the bridge, Mr. Fred helped them out of the car and they went on down the bank of the river. They stood there for awhile watching the many boats, large and small, the people going and coming, none of whom seemed to be in the same hurry as those farther up in the city, and most of whom were men sauntering leisurely along with their hands in their pockets.
Mr. Fred, who had left the girls for a few minutes, now came back, and, on his giving the command, they followed him to a pretty little dock where there were several row-boats. In one of these the five girls were soon seated, Winnie in the bow, Gretta and Fannie in the stern, while Miriam and Miss Kitty—who could both row—sat together where each could handle an oar, declaring that they meant to help provide some of the power. Uncle Fred took his place in the seat of "the crack oarsman," as he said, the smiling boatman on the wharf pushed them off, and soon they found themselves afloat. Fannie held the rudder and handled it very skillfully, although Mr. Fred kept a sharp lookout himself, for the river at this point was full of craft of all descriptions, from the large steamboats whose journey continues through the beautiful Ohio down through "The Father of Waters;" the ferry boats crossing between Ohio and Kentucky; little steam launches and row-boats, just starting out for pleasure; and fishing-boats returning laden from the day's work.
At first Miss Kitty and Miriam splashed about a little, but soon they became accustomed to each other and pulled such a steady, even stroke that Mr. Fred was obliged to stop laughing at them, and even acknowledged that they were helping to make the boat go.
All along the shores of the river were numbers of shanty boats, and as they approached the mouth of the Licking they saw more of these. Winnie, especially, was much interested in them, and enjoyed her seat in the bow as giving a good opportunity to catch a glimpse of some of their inmates—little boys with bare feet, girls with bright-colored dresses, many barking dogs, and an occasional cat, all of whom, in her eyes, were invested with a peculiar fascination.