“Oh, yes! You’ll find a good word to say for her, Nan. You always champion the cause of the weak and afflicted. Every sore-eyed kitten you saw on the street at Tillbury used to appeal to you.”
“Oh, bosh!” exclaimed Nan. “You make me out a whole lot worse than I am.”
The canoe suddenly dipped sideways and Bess squealed as a splash of water came inboard. “Sit down! you’re rocking the boat!” she sang.
“That was a flaw of wind. Guess we’ll have to watch out. Don’t tie the sheet to that cleat, Bess.”
“‘Sheet’? Oh! you mean this rope. I never can remember nautical names. But I’ve got to hitch the thing, Nan. I want to wash my hands. And this water ought to be got out. There’s a big sponge in the bow-locker. There! I got that right, didn’t I? ‘Bow locker.’”
Nan was steering with a paddle and could not give her full attention to the sail. The sea was choppy and it took some effort to keep the head of the canoe properly pointed.
Nan was bare-headed, but Bess wore a rubber bathing cap. Nan’s braids snapped about her shoulders when the boisterous wind swooped down upon them. Farther out upon the lake white-caps appeared.
“I guess we’d better not go very far to-day,” Nan said cautiously.
“There go Walter and those girls!” Bess cried. “Yes! Linda is aboard. What did I tell you?”
“Well, they can get back more quickly than we can,” Nan said seriously.