“Oh, yes.”
“Who was she?”
“Polly Jarley. She is daughter of a boatman up at the lake. And wasn’t it fortunate that I met her? She can find us a camping place and get everything fixed up there for our coming.”
“What’s her name?” asked Bess, sharply.
“Polly Jarley.”
“And she lives up there by the lake?”
“So she says.”
“Her father is John Jarley, of course?” queried Bessie, looking down at Wyn, darkly.
“Yes. That is her father’s name,” said Wyn, beginning to wonder at her friend’s manner.
“Well! I guess you don’t know those Jarleys very well; do you?”