“There’s not a boat on the lake that can compare with ours,” cried Mollie proudly, as she tacked the end of a festoon of small banners to the awning-pole, while Barbara gave a finishing touch by crossing the silk flags of the “Automobile Girls” on the bow.
“If only the lanterns don’t catch fire this evening,” said Miss Sallie.
“What a pessimist you are, Auntie, dearest!” exclaimed Ruth. “We can easily pitch them in the water if they do, and still be very handsome with our banners and things.”
“Here comes the count,” cried Maud, who had ignored the conversation of the others and was busily scanning the multitudes of boats in search of her admirer.
Her friends politely controlled a desire to laugh when they saw the count presently emerge from the boats along the shore in a small canoe that was decorated with one lantern hung from a bamboo stick in the bow, while the French flag waved triumphantly from the stern. The count, in white flannels, was working laboriously with the paddle. His little mustache twitched in an agony of exertion and occasionally he paused to wipe the perspiration from his brow.
“The count is quite an athlete, isn’t he, Maud?” asked Mollie wickedly. “I should think he might lead the parade to-night.”
But Maud was not listening. Her whole attention was concentrated on the canoe, which was making straight for the launch.
“Here I am, Count,” she cried, waving her handkerchief to the young Frenchman, who, as soon as he espied the boat full of girls, had begun to paddle with a grand flourish, at the same time casting melting glances in the direction of Maud. But he had not calculated on the distance between the canoe and the launch, and a final, fancy stroke with the paddle, sent the frail little boat scurrying over the water.
It collided with the larger boat, and in an instant turned turtle, dragging the flag of the French ignominiously into the depths while the discomfited son of France, clung to the side of his boat, and wildly called for help.
At first the girls were speechless with laughter and the last of the De Sondes received neither sympathy nor aid. Even Maud joined in the merriment, while the enraged nobleman sputtered angrily in French and denounced America and everything in it as fit only for pigs.