Delbert ran down to the launch and scrambled in. “I brought baby’s jacket, too,” he said, dumping the wraps, the granite-ware kettle, and a little bright new dishpan in a heap at Marian’s feet.
“I see you did, but whatever did you bring that dishpan for?”
“Why, it was sitting out there on the table, so I s’posed you forgot it, and I wasn’t going to be sent back again.”
Marian laughed. “I had no notion of bringing it,” she said. “Well, Mr. Pearson, I guess we are all ready. You’d better start off before we think of something else we might like to take.”
“Just think, Marian,” said Delbert; “Mr. Pearson has not been outside the harbor since he has been here.”
“No? Never been to the Rosalie Group, Mr. Pearson?”
Pearson cleared his throat. “No; when a man is busy he don’t get much time for picnics,” he said.
“I am to show him the way,” continued Delbert, “and he is to make the launch go there.”
It was a lovely day. The children were fairly bubbling over with the glee of it, and Marian herself felt unusually gay and light-hearted.
Mr. Pearson was rather silent. He was a newcomer to the Port, and Marian had had hitherto but a bare speaking acquaintance with him. She had an instinctive feeling, however, that he considered children as necessary nuisances; so she tried to keep them from annoying him too much with their chatter. However, though he volunteered no remarks, he answered good-naturedly what was said especially to him, followed minutely Delbert’s instructions as to their direction, and listened with apparent interest when the little fellow told of trips taken with Clarence in the sailboat.