She had caught sight of the boatman’s daughter paddling near the shore in an Indian canoe. It was of birchbark and Polly shot it along under the stroke of her paddle as though it had the weight of a feather. And, indeed, it was not so heavy by a good deal as the cedar boats of the Go-Ahead girls.
Polly waved her hand and turned the canoe’s prow toward Wyn. Not until she was right among the other canoes did she realize that in one of them sat Bessie Lavine.
“We are very glad to see you, Polly,” declared Wyn. “Are you going to enter for the girls’ races?”
“Good-morning, Polly,” cried Grace, equally cordial. “What a pretty boat you have!”
Polly stammered some words of welcome and then looked from Bessie to Mr. Lavine. Evidently the boatman’s daughter suspected who the gentleman was.
Mr. Lavine was a pleasant enough man to meet socially. It is true that both he and his daughter were impulsive and perhaps prided themselves on being “good haters.” This does not mean that they were haters of that which was good; but that if they considered anybody their enemy the enmity was not allowed to die out.
“I am glad to see you again, Polly,” Bess said, driving her canoe close to that of the boatman’s daughter. “Won’t you speak to me at all?”
“Oh, Miss Lavine! I would not be so rude as to refuse to speak to you,” Polly replied. “But–but it doesn’t do any good—”
“Yes, it does, Polly,” Bess said, quickly. “This is my father and he wants to thank you for saving my life.”
“Indeed I do!” exclaimed Mr. Lavine, heartily. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate what you did—”