“Margery’s right, though, Dolly,” said Eleanor. “The race isn’t over yet. You haven’t given up hope, have you?”
“Given up?” cried Dolly, scornfully, through set teeth. “Just you watch, that’s all! I’m going to get home ahead if I have to swamp us all.”
“That’s more like her,” Margery whispered to Bessie.
And now even Bessie could see that the Defiance had gained a big advantage. Before her eyes, not so well trained as those of the others to weigh every consideration in such a contest, had not seen what was really happening. But it was plain enough now. Even while the Defiance was holding on for the lighthouse, on a straight course, the Eleanor had to come about and start beating up toward it, and the Defiance made the turn, and, with spinnaker set, was skimming gaily for home a full five minutes before the Eleanor circled lighthouse.
In fact, the Defiance, homeward bound, passed them, and Mary Turner laughed gaily as she hailed Eleanor.
“This is pretty bad,” she called. “Better luck next time, Nell!”
Marcia Bates waved her hand gaily to them, but Gladys Cooper, her eyes straight ahead, her hand on the tiller, paid no attention to them. There was no mistaking the look of triumph on her face, however. She was sure she was going to win, and she was glorying in her victory already.
“I’ll make her smile on the other side of her face yet,” said Dolly, viciously. “She might have waved her hand, at least. If we’re good enough to race with, we’re good enough for her to be decently polite to us, I should think.”
“Easy, Dolly!” said Margery. “It won’t help any for you to lose your temper, you know. Remember you’ve still got to sail your boat.”
The Defiance was far ahead when, at last, after a wait that seemed to those on board interminable, the Eleanor rounded the lighthouse in her turn.