“I have no objections to trying it again, then, Edward,” said Miss Campbell, “only don’t upset us in the water, whatever you do.”
The girls laughed happily. Who could be solemn in this magical place where everything was beautiful? The sky, the water, the land, even the faces of the most ordinary human beings were glorified by the bewitching atmosphere.
“You are a precious little sport, cousin,” cried Billie, kissing her relative on her peach-blossom cheek, “with all your baby-blue eyes and your laces and frills, you enjoy a race as much as any of us.”
“And why not, my child? I’m not a stock or a stone always to stay planted in one spot and never to have any good times.”
The other boat had come alongside of them now.
“Want to race?” called out the young man at the engine, who by the way was the same person who had called Nancy and Billie “cats” that very morning in the bathing pavilion.
“All right,” answered Edward. “We’ll start now if your friend will give the signal, and race to the little house on the shore.”
There were two other people in the boat, one a boy who sat in the stern. He wore smoked glasses and his hat was pulled well down over his face. The other was a girl.
“Why, it’s the same girl who was walking this morning with the terrible old English lady,” whispered Nancy. “Her name is Georgiana Paxton.”
But no one replied, for the boy with the smoked glasses had called out: “One—two—three—off you go,” and the two boats had shot out over the water.