"Certainly!" and, nothing daunted, Emily started up.
"Who doubted her willingness?" laughed Nan saucily.
Eleanor shook her head at the speaker.
Dick threw himself down in the midst of the group of girls and kept up an incessant chatter.
One voice was lacking in the general interchange of nonsense, for to-day Jean Lawrence, who was usually the merriest of them all, found her interest flagging strangely. Sitting somewhat apart from the others, her eyes wandered persistently to where Farr was courteously and patiently initiating Emily Varian into the art of steering. There was something about the man that caught her attention and held it almost against her will. She noted with what an air of distinction his rough yachting flannels were worn, and how beautifully shaped were the long slender hands which moved so lazily, yet with such a suggestion of strength. His cap was drawn down over his face, so that only the lines of a well-molded mouth and chin were revealed, and Jean found herself waiting with almost childish interest for a glimpse of the eyes so tantalizingly hid from view. A sudden shout of boisterous laughter from Dick brought her sharply to herself, and with a keen sense of shame, and a passionate hope that her defection might have passed unnoticed, she turned and plunged into the conversation.
"Let us have some songs, girls," suggested Eleanor. "We are getting very much demoralized, and I don't know what that strange man will think of us."
"Oh, if I were a little bird how happy I would be," began Jean, with more energy than correctness.
"Hold on, Jeanie," interrupted Nathalie, catching up her mandolin, "the other words have lots more flavor."
"Oh, the first that came a-courting was little Tommy Green,
The finest young man that ever was seen,