"Oh, Polly COULD anything be lovelier than this day? The sky is like a blue canopy, not a cloud to be seen, the air just sets one nearly crazy, and that blue, sparkling water makes me long to dive head-first into it."
"Well, why not?" asked Polly. "It is only half past six and loads of time for a dip before breakfast. Let's get into our bathing suits, bang on the ceiling to wake up Happy, Shortie and Wheedles and make them stick their heads out of the window."
It did not take five minutes to carry the suggestion into effect and a golf stick thumping "reveille" under Wheedles' bed effectually brought him back from dreams of Annapolis. Rousing out the other two he stuck a tousled head out of his window to be hailed by two bonny little figures prancing excitedly upon the balcony beneath him.
"Hello, great god Sumnus," cried Polly, "Wake up! Oh, but you do look sleepy. Stir up the others. Peggy and I are going down for a dip before breakfast and to judge by your eyes they need the sand washed out of them."
"Awh! Whow! Oh," yawned Wheedles, striving vainly to keep his mouth closed and to get his eyes opened. Just then two other heads appeared.
"What's doing? House afire?" they asked.
"No, it's the other element—water," laughed Peggy. "Come and get into it. That's what we are going to do. You may think those pink and blue JACKETS you're wearing are the prettiest things in the world—WE know they are part of your graduation "trousseau," but bathing suits are in order just now. So put them on and hurry down."
"Bet your life," was chorused as the three tousled heads vanished.
The average midshipman's "shift" requires as a rule, about two minutes, and passed-middies are no exception. Before it seemed possible three bath-robed figures joined the girls, who had put their raincoats over their bathing suits, and all slipped down to the little beach in front of the cottage and struck out for the float anchored about fifty feet off shore.
What a sight the bay and river presented that morning. Hundreds of beautiful yachts, foregathered from every part of the world, for New London makes a wonderful showing Regatta week, and flying the flags of innumerable yacht clubs, were crowding the roadstead. A more inspiring sight it would be difficult to imagine. Just beyond the float, and lying between the Olympia and Navy Bungalow, the pretty little naptha launch on which Captain Stewart's party were to be Captain Boynton's guests, rode lightly at anchor, her bright work reflecting the sunlight, her awning a-flutter, her signal pennant waving bravely.