After breakfast the three repaired to a certain covered piazza where they always read the lesson for the day; then Mr. Evringham suggested that they go promptly to the beach to see the splendid show before the rollers regained their usual monotonous dignity.
"Jewel and I thought we would go over in the boat instead of through the fields, but that old tub is rather uninviting for a lady's clothes."
"I think I will take the solitary saunter in preference," returned Mrs. Evringham. "You and Jewel row over if you like."
"No, we'd rather walk with you," said the child heroically.
Julia smiled. "I don't want you. There are birds and flowers."
"Well, come down and see us off, anyway," said Mr. Evringham; so the three moved over the grass toward the pond; two walking sedately and one skipping from sheer high spirits.
As they drew near the little wharf the child's quick eyes perceived that there were two boats floating there, one each side of it.
"See that, grandpa! There's some visitor around here," she said, running ahead of the others. A light, graceful boat rose and fell on the waves. It was golden brown within and without, and highly varnished. Its four seats were furnished with wine-colored cushions. Four slim oars lay along its bottom, and its rowlocks gleamed. Best of all, a slender mast with snowy sail furled about it lay along the edge.
"Grandpa, p-lease ask somebody whose it is and if we could get in just a minute!" begged Jewel, in hushed excitement.
"Oh, they're all good neighbors about here. They won't mind, whoever it is," returned Mr. Evringham carelessly, and to the child's wonder and doubt he jumped aboard.