"Why, Edith!" exclaimed Miss Falconer. "I never imagined you disliked the Marburys."
"And I do not," said Miss Tyler, "I do not; but it grieves me to see the old families dying out and the new ones coming in."
"Which being the case, however, and we unable to prevent it, what do you say to a row on the river?" Miss Stirling broke in.
They went down to the wharf at the foot of the garden. A word to the boat-master, and, presently, the Governor's barge shot out, manned by eight negroes, in the red and gray of his Excellency's colors. Miss Stirling bade the others aboard, and herself took the tiller.
"Straight away!" she ordered.
The blacks bent to their work, while the young ladies settled back among the cushions, under the awning, and gossiped. Presently, when the waves of the Bay began to roll, the barge was put about and headed up the Severn.
They were just opposite the Governor's grounds, when a boat, running with astonishing swiftness, rushed by them, a hundred yards away. It was an Indian canoe, fitted with a keel, two leg o' mutton sails and a jib, and seemed fairly to skim the water.
"George Marbury?" said Miss Stirling.
"It is," said Miss Tyler; "and that boat will be the death of him, yet."