It was a gay ride back along the bay shore road. The Doctor was an old acquaintance of Aunt Cynthy’s, for he loved flowers and had often stopped on his way to the post-office to look at her garden and chat awhile over the white cross-bar fence.
When they arrived at the club house, the whole place seemed filled with people. All of the summer colony had turned out in state to do honor to the regatta, as well as the visitors. Up in the balcony that overhung the bay, a band played, and the view out on the water was one the girls never forgot all their lives.
After they had greeted the Commodore and Mrs. Vaughan, they found chairs at a good angle of vision, and established themselves around Aunt Cynthy as chaperon, while the Doctor and Admiral Page went out on the committee boat.
The bay was brilliant in the sparkling morning sunshine. It was a perfect day. Crullers said the sky looked higher than usual, and the clouds drifted lazily up from the southwest. The great sails were hoisted, and curved out in great white swells, as the wind filled them. Orders rang out sharply, as the white-clad sailors ran here and there, and finally the start was made at 11:02 sharp. One after another, eight yachts dipped to the wind, crossed the imaginary line of starting, and the fifteen-mile race was on.
“Oh, Polly, just think how we shall feel when we start like that,” exclaimed Sue, excitedly. “Just look at the spread of canvas on that last sloop. All I can think of is a sheet tacked to a shingle, by way of comparison. Polly, Polly, watch her keel over as she catches the wash from the others. Oh, isn’t it glorious!”
“Don’t gush so, child,” said Aunt Cynthy, placidly. “No sailor talks that way at all. But ’tis a sightly lot of sail boats, and no mistake. What’s the name of that last one?”
Dorothy leaned over her chair, happy and proud.
“That’s my father’s sloop, the Adventure,” she replied. “Mamma is with him. They are waving to us, don’t you see?”
“And she’s the only lady in the race,” added Bess, her eyes full of love and pleasure. “She loves it the same as we do.”
Polly leaned eagerly forward over the railing. She had handed the glasses to Kate and Isabel. Her cap was off, and the breeze blew her curls back from her forehead. Her lips were half parted, and her eyes shining like stars as she watched the stately yachts cross the bay, and make for the open channel to the sea.