Cathalina and Lilian finally settled themselves, Cathalina by Betty, still her room-mate, and Lilian by Eloise, for Lilian had brought her guitar and hastened to get it out of its case. Eloise was already strumming upon her ukulele, and rose to look around for anyone else who had one. But the other girls had either forgotten their instruments or had not wanted to bother with them.
“Start ’em off, Hilary,” said Lilian to her room-mate. “I can’t lead and play too, and neither can Eloise.”
Hilary obediently started the Greycliff songs and some of the war songs so popular then, for the girls never started anywhere upon the water without singing. “The Long, Long Trail,” “Tipperary,” and “Keep the Home Fires Burning,” followed in due order after the Greycliff songs, and Eloise and Lilian sang “I May Be Gone For a Long, Long Time,” which Lilian had brought with her from New York. It was comparatively new to the girls, but one after the other joined, as the catchy tune was supplemented by the chords and “plunks” of guitar and ukulele. Lilian was in a gay humor, for she had just received a bright letter from Phil, who complained that he supposed he would be kept training in this country till the end of the war, but told of many funny experiences, and the fact that he might be in America for some time to come was of much relief to both Lilian and Cathalina.
“Why, where are you going, Mickey?” asked one of the girls in surprise, as she saw that they were going out in the open lake far beyond where they usually turned toward the famous old “Island.” This could now be seen at their left in the distance.
“Oi have a surprise fur ye,” said Mickey, turning the wheel a little. “Wait a minute an’ ye can see a little flag on the shore. The trustees has bought a new playground for ye, where there ain’t no rocks.”
Great surprise and pleasure was evident on the faces of all the girls who could hear what Mickey said, and the word was passed around to the others. They all watched with interest, while the boat chugged on, several miles further on, and then turned nearer shore, toward a sandy beach and a new dock. As they approached, several gulls which had been perching there spread their wings and flew away. “Oh,” exclaimed Lilian, “this ought to be called ‘White Wings.’ Look at the terns fishing out there!”
“It does seem to be a regular feeding place for the birds,” said Hilary with great interest. “Of course, the wings are not all white, really,” she added.
“But they look so,” insisted Lilian. “Have they named the place, Mickey?”
“No, m’am, not as I know of,” replied Mickey.
“I’ll write it up, then, for the Greycliff Star,” said Lilian who, as chief editor this year was always looking for “copy,”—“and call it ‘White Wings,’ and perhaps the name will stick to it.”