"If their wives don't mend 'em up, the way mine does me, they are ragged," said Larry. "But that isn't the way the answer goes, as I remember it."
Fred was frowning with his effort to solve the riddle.
"Not because they both wear blue?" he suggested. "Some flowers are blue, you know, and the hills are in the distance and the ocean—lots of times."
Larry shook his head and tapped a nut with his monkey wrench.
"She's knocking again," he muttered. "No, Fred, I begin to think you're a better fisherman than you are a riddle solver."
Polly almost had an idea—she opened her mouth and closed it again.
"I know exactly what it is," she said in a moment. "I'm just as sure I have it! Wait till I get it straight. Ocean—water—sea—that's it!" she cried in triumph. "Both are seasons! Isn't that it, Larry?"
Larry smiled at her proudly.
"They made no mistake when they put you at the head of the Riddle Club," he said admiringly. "'Tis right you are. Seasons—sea sons—is the answer."