“Half a dollar. Is that too much?”
“It looks too little; but I suppose you know what you can get for them at the Forge,” he said.
“And this saves me rowing down there,” returned the brown girl, smiling and blushing under the scrutiny of so many eyes.
Wyn leaned over the rail, took the fish, and kissed Polly on her brown cheek.
“Dreadfully glad to see you, dear,” she declared. “Won’t you come over to the camp to-morrow and show us girls where–and how–to fish, too? We’re crazy for a fishing trip.”
“Why–if you want me?” said Polly, her fine eyes slowly taking in the group of girls aboard the motor boat.
All looked at her in a friendly way save Bessie, and she had her back to the girl.
“I’ll come,” said Polly, blushing again; and then she pocketed, the piece of money Dave gave her, and pushed off a bit.
“Is this really where your father came so near losing his life, Polly?” asked Wyn, seriously.
“Yes, Miss Wyn. Right yonder. It was so thick he could not see the shore. A limb of that tree yonder–you can see where it was broken off; see the scar?”