“This looks like a celebration of some kind, girls,” Kate said, merrily. “We had better be careful.”
The others hesitated for a moment. They were dressed as usual in their dark blue yachting suits, with white sailor collars, and white duck knockabout hats to match. Even from where they stood, there was surely a festive appearance to the club group. But the girls had already seen them, and came hurrying down the steps to meet them, with outstretched hands and glad smiles of welcome.
“Oh, I’m so glad you came over at last,” cried Bess. “Mamma wants you all to come up and join us. To-morrow’s the official guest day, but mamma’s giving a tea this afternoon to the lady visitors, and we Juniors are helping pass cake and things. Come up, now, for we’ve just been telling about how Polly saved Crullers’ life the other night.”
“Oh, but I didn’t,” exclaimed Polly, reddening under her coat of tan. “Truly, Bess, I didn’t. Crullers, I mean Jane Daphne Adams here, jumped overboard, and she was floating comfortably with three buoys attached to her when I helped her into the boat.”
“Well, the captain of the Portland didn’t tell it that way,” Dorothy said. “He came up to the hotel that evening and told us all about it. He said that you were the pluckiest girl he had ever seen handle a yacht alone. Won’t you please come up, and let mamma talk to you about it? She’s ever so anxious to meet all of you girls from the island camp anyway, for Bess and I have talked of you so frequently.”
“But we really hadn’t better to-day, had we, Polly?” Ruth’s eyes questioned Polly. What would Miss Calvert say if she knew six of her best girls had attended a yacht club afternoon tea in blue duck.
“It’s the correct thing to do,” Bess persisted, laughing at their perplexity. “The law of yacht clubs gives a tacit membership, papa says, to all members of other clubs who may be in the neighborhood. And they can’t always be in party attire, you know.”
“Oh, let’s, Polly,” pleaded Isabel. So Ruth and Polly led the way up the broad steps to the veranda, with its handsome awnings, potted palms, and dark green wicker chairs and tables scattered invitingly about.
Mrs. Vaughan welcomed them cordially and introduced them to the other ladies and a lot of the “Juniors,” girls of their own age, and friends of Dorothy’s and Bess’s.
“And you are all Southern girls, Dolly tells me,” she said, looking from one face to the other. “Virginia girls. How did you ever happen to drift away up on our rocky coast?”