"Wall, I guess I can't afford no sech a vase as that,—not till my ship comes in."
"But it's a mere toy for the ocean, as you say," rejoined Miss Martha. "Who would go out in that shell?"
"This child here," said Thinkright, while Sylvia's eyes grew more eager. "It's just the thing for the basin."
"Thinkright, you haven't bought me a boat!" the girl cried.
He shook his head and smiled. "No, not I. Your Uncle Calvin has sent you this."
"And if it hain't got the durndest name for a yaller bo't that ever I see," remarked Cap'n Lem.
"Yes," added Thinkright. "We're surprised at the name, for it is Judge Trent's own selection. It scarcely seems characteristic."
Sylvia and her aunt hurried around the other side of the little craft. In neat, small black letters was printed, The Rosy Cloud.
Sylvia gazed, then she colored to the roots of the silky curls and laughed. The others watched her curiously.
"Do you know what he was aiming at?" asked Thinkright.