“It surely was all right. Why, what would any of us have done if she hadn’t been here? Mamma was scared worse than I was, even. You know she saw a person killed by lightning once and has never got over it. You’ll find, if you watch out, that Mrs. Calvert will help us have a good time, rather than spoil it; if—if—we don’t go back. I guess Mamma wishes we’d have to do that.”
Aurora did not answer, for just then the others were eagerly discussing the situation. They were to “up anchor,” run up the sails to catch the stiff breeze that was rising with the sun, and proceed down the coast as far as they could while the engineer remained, as he had agreed to do for a few hours longer, because of Mrs. Calvert’s earnest request.
“Get us safe into some snug harbor, please Mr. Stinson, and I will see that you lose nothing by the delay.”
“That is all right, Madam. I only wish I could join your cruise for all its length. I’m sure you’re bound to have a grand trip, despite the bad beginning—which should bring the proverbial good ending.”
“I wish you could. Oh! I do wish you could,” said Aunt Betty. She was somewhat surprised to find the engineer a man of culture, but was delighted by the fact. She felt that the presence of such a man would keep her three boys straight, for she was a little afraid of “pranks” should they indulge in any.
She had hoped, too, to make the most of their trip up and down the Severn, with which lovely river her earliest memories lingered. However, they were not to reach it yet. The friendly wind forsook them and both Cap’n Jack and Mr. Stinson felt that it would be wise to enter a little bay further north; and making their slow way between some islands come to anchor on the shores of the Magothy.
“The Maggotty! That’s where the best cantaloupes come from!” cried Mabel. “Who’ll buy my fine wattymillyouns, growed on de Maggotty, down in An’erunnel! Wattymillyouns! Cant-e-lopes! Oh! I want one this minute!”
“What a dreadful name for a river! Who’d eat melons full of maggots!” demanded Aurora, with a little shiver. Evidently, though she must often have heard them, she had paid scant attention to the cries of the negro hucksters through her own city’s streets.
“It isn’t ‘Maggotty’ but ‘Magothy’,” explained Dorothy. “I used to think just as you do until I learned better. I’m bad as Mabel. I just can’t wait. I must have a ‘cantaloupe’ for supper, I must! Scooped out and filled with ice—sweet and juicy——”
“Hold on! Hold on! Wait till I fetch it!” returned Gerald, with a smack of his own lips. Then leaving the others to follow as they chose he ran to the stern of the tender which the men had brought close to a grassy bank, and leaped ashore.