“Oh, dear me!” cried Frankie, “tea isn’t going to satisfy the gnawing of my appetite.”
“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.
“Just you wait,” cried Dave. “I caught sight of something just now–there she is!”
The Happy Day rounded a wooded point of the island. Near the shore floated Polly Jarley’s skiff and Polly was just getting up her anchor.
“She’s been fishing all day!” exclaimed Wyn.
“And I’ll wager she’s got a fine mess of perch,” said Dave. “Hi, Miss Jarley!” he shouted. “Hold on a minute.”
Polly had heard the chugging of the motor boat. Now she stood up suddenly and waved both hands in some excitement.