Phil looked puzzled, but Madge only laughed. “Don’t mind Tania, Phil. She is going to be a very sensible little houseboat girl before our holiday is over. Besides, I understand her. She only says some of the things I used to think when I was a tiny child. But I do wish the people on the boats would not stare at us so; there is nothing very wonderful in our appearance.”
The girls were trying to guide their rowboat among the other larger craft that were afloat on the bay. They wished to get into the more remote waters. In the meantime it was embarrassing to have smartly dressed women and girls put up their lorgnettes and opera glasses to gaze at the girls as the latter rowed by.
“Can there be anything the matter with us?” asked Phil solicitously. “I never saw anything like this fire of inquisitive stares.”
“Of course not, Phil,” answered Lillian sensibly. “It is only because we are strangers at Cape May, and most of the people whom we see about come here each year. Then we are the only persons who live in a Noah’s ark, as those pleasant people on the yacht called our pretty ‘Merry Maid’ last night. Don’t worry. Have you thought how odd it is that we won’t even know them if we should be introduced to them later? We did not see either them or their boat very plainly last night; we only overheard them talking.”
“But I’ll know the voice of that woman who screamed,” replied Madge rather grimly. “I just dare her to shriek again without my recognizing her dulcet tones.”
The girls were now drawing away from the crowded end of the bay. They kept along fairly close to the shore. There was an occasional house near the water, but these dwellings were farther and farther apart. Finally the girls rowed for half a mile without seeing any residence save an occasional fisherman’s hut. They hoped to reach some place where they could catch at least a glimpse of the wonderful cedar woods that flourish farther up the coast of the bay.
Suddenly Lillian sang out: “Look, girls, there is the dearest little house! It is almost in the water. It rivals our houseboat, it is so like a ship. Isn’t it too cunning for anything!”
Madge and Phyllis rested on their oars. The girls stared curiously.
They saw a house built of shingles that had turned a soft gray which exactly resembled an old three-masted schooner. It had a tiny porch in front, but the first roof ended in a point, the second rose higher, like a larger sail, and the third, which must have covered the kitchen, was about the height of the first.
“See, Tania, I can make the funny house by putting my fingers together,” laughed Lillian. “My thumbs are the first roof, my three fingers the second, and my little fingers the last.”