“What would you do with a moving van out here on a boat?” demanded Bert.
“I could put it on another boat—one of those flat ones, like they have down at New York, where the horses and wagons walk right on,” insisted Freddie, thinking of a ferryboat.
“Well, we haven’t any such boats around here, so we’d better not have any moving vans either,” remarked Mr. Bobbsey, with a laugh.
“I don’t want to move anywhere, anyway,” said Flossie. “I’m too tired to do it. I’m going to stay right where I am.”
“Oh, so’m I going to stay!” cried Freddie quickly. “Come on—let us make our beds right over here,” and he caught up one of the smaller mattresses. He struggled to cross the deck with it, but got his feet tangled up in one end, and pitched headlong.
“Look out there, Freddie Bobbsey, or you’ll go overboard!” cried his brother, as he rushed to the little boy’s assistance.
“If I went overboard, could I float on the mattress?” questioned Freddie, as he scrambled to his feet.
“I don’t think so,” answered his father. “And, anyway, I wouldn’t try it.”
Presently the mattresses and bedcovers were distributed to everyone’s satisfaction, and then all lay down to rest.
For a time, Flossie and Freddie, as well as Nan and Bert, tossed about, but at last they fell asleep. It was very quiet on the sea, the only noise being the lapping of the waves against the sides of the Swallow.