“Run on down to the Mainsail Hotel, Joey,” said the minister, writing rapidly. “Find the lady—there will be a good many ladies—and hand her this.”
“Pooh!” retorted this nautical child with a superior air, “Vat ain’t nuffin! She’s good-lookin’ nuff to find off Zheorges in a fog-bank.”
Thus ran the note:—
Dear Miss Carruth,—I will call for the report to-morrow. Thank you.
Yours,
E. B.
When Bayard reached her mother’s piazza the next evening, Helen was in the middle of the harbor.
“My daughter is considered a good oarswoman, I believe,” said the Professor with a troubled look. “I know nothing about these matters myself. I confess I wish I did. I have not felt easy about her; she has propelled the craft so far into the stream. I am delighted to see you, Mr. Bayard! I will put another boat at your service—that is—I suppose you understand the use of oars?”
“Better than I do Verbal Inspiration, Professor!” replied Bayard, laughing. “She is rather far out, and the tide has turned.”
He ran down the pier, and leaped into the first boat that he could secure. It happened to be a dory.