“And you claim to understand Rosa now?” asked Gar, swerving his boat into the small cove that lay beside his own summer home and Fernlode.
“Well, yes, I think I do,” spoke up Nancy. “But then, Rosa’s my own cousin and that makes it easier.”
“Maybe that’s it,” retorted Gar, “because I’m not so dreadfully stupid, I hope, yet I can’t understand her a-tall.”
“Now look!” cried Paul suddenly, standing up and pointing to Fernlode. “There they are! What did I tell you!”
“That,” replied Gar, crisply, slowing down his engine.
“Oh, I’m so glad,” breathed Nancy, in her joy betraying how anxious she had been. “But the boat is going off!”
“Yes, but your dear little Rosalind is all right, standing there all by her little self. See her?” said Gar, as usual teasing about Rosa.
It took but a few moments to pull up to the long landing, but the Cucumber had already steamed off and, as Gar had said, Rosa stood there, waiting alone.
One look at her cousin’s face and Nancy knew she had been disappointed. She had not found Orilla.