“Why?”
“I’m Polly.”
“Then I’m Alfred. But I meant to be Polly.”
“I was first.”
“All right. I’m going to be the ferryman.”
“I see. You’ll have to punt better.”
“You should have seen me early in the afternoon.”
“I can imagine it.... I’ve seen the others.”
“What others?” Mr. Polly had landed now and was fastening up the punt.
“What Uncle Jim has scooted.”