Polly’s face fairly glowed with pride and pleasure. Although in a way the whole club owed its existence to her, and she was the ruling spirit, yet she never allowed the girls to give her, as Crullers said flatly, “the best of everything.” In a hundred ways she showed a steady, loving generosity and unfailing thoughtfulness and courtesy to her “crew,” as the Admiral called the rest of the club, but Polly said he was wrong.
“A crew mans one boat or vessel, but we are an independent club of yacht racers.”
So to-day when the Tidy Jane was handed over to her, she hesitated, saying that it didn’t seem fair to the rest. But the rest insisted and Polly consented.
“Why, I’d love her just on account of her name,” she said, as she ran down to the landing, and stepped over into the cockpit. “You go back and get the other boats, Tom, please. We shall want to look this one all over till we know the name of every part of her and just what it is for.”
“I’ll bring up a knockabout next,” said Tom.
“What’s the difference between a catboat and a knockabout?” asked Ted.
“A cat’s different from all other yachts because her mast is set right up in the eyes of her,” explained Tom. “And she’s broader beamed, and wider, and has only one sail.”
“She’s a beauty,” Sue exclaimed, and Polly nodded.
“I know it,” she laughed.
Tom made six more trips, and finally the last of the boats lay close to the little landing. It was a long-remembered afternoon, as under Tom’s guidance the girls had their first lesson in sailing them. The day was a perfect one. A southerly breeze came up, just enough to bear them lightly on their course over the bay. The Admiral had come down during the afternoon and had given much valuable advice; but as Polly said herself, as she stood on the porch at sundown, her face already tanned and sleeves turned back to the elbows: