“I say—that’s a bully raft.”
“To be sure it is.”
“I haven’t had a ride on a raft since—why since ’leven or six years ago when I was a little boy. I shouldn’t wonder if it was twenty-three years, either.”
“Oh, I can’t bear people that hint. Why don’t you say right out, if you want a ride?”
“I want a ride,” said Winnie, without any hesitation.
“Wait till I turn her round. I’ll bring her up on the larboard side,” replied Gypsy, in the tone of an old salt of fifty years’ experience.
So she paddled up to the oak-tree, and Winnie jumped on board.
“I guess we’ll have time to row across and back before school,” said Gypsy, pushing off.
Winnie maintained a discreet silence.
“I don’t suppose it’s very late,” said Gypsy.