“That’s the dinghey, you mean,” Tom told her. “You folks over here need a dory.”
“Well, what’s the difference between the two, Tom?” Polly called from the inner room, where she sat writing letters home, so Tom could take them over to Eastport that afternoon.
“A dory’s a freebooter, and her own mistress,” said Tom, “but a dinghey belongs to the ship her painter’s fastened to.”
“Then we want a dory.”
Accordingly a dory found its way over, and became part of the club’s equipment. The girls liked it, too; they averaged from two to six trips a day in it over to Fair Havens. It was handy when they wanted to send by Tom or the Captain to the village for groceries, for they could bring them home in the dory from the Captain’s house.
Friday night it was when Sue told of Smugglers’ Cove, and they decided to picnic there the next day; so early the next morning Polly rowed over to ask Nancy to go with them.
“I had better help mother with the cleaning,” Nancy said, hesitatingly, but Mrs. Carey smilingly waved her away.
“Land, Nannie, you’re only young once. Go along and be happy. There isn’t much to do at all.”
“We’ll have to start away from the island at about five, Polly,” Nancy said, as she slipped off her big apron and brushed her hair, “because the Portland boat gets in to-day, and she’s due at six-thirty. We had better keep out of her way.”
“Yes, and you children don’t want to catch her swell in those wisps of boats,” Mrs. Carey added, firmly.