Ernest, secure in the rower’s seat, could afford to 268be generous. He brought the boat in and took them all on board. Gertie had been a quiet spectator of the frolic. She had little taste for boisterous fun.
Captain Clarke handed her in with a flourish. “Gertie is my partner.”
Sherm had his revenge. Ernest rowed energetically–so energetically that he was tired enough to be willing to resign the oars before a half hour had gone by. Under the circumstances he did not quite like to ask Sherm to relieve him. Sherm seemed to be oblivious to the fact that it required energy to propel the boat. He was strumming an imaginary banjo as an accompaniment to the familiar melodies the girls were softly singing, occasionally joining in himself. Katy did not fail to observe that Ernest dropped one of his oars to regard a blister ruefully, and she did her best to help.
“Say, Ernest, let me try one oar. I believe I could row with you if you would take shorter strokes.”
Ernest hadn’t much faith in Katy’s skill, but the experiment gave him an excuse to rest a minute. He moved over and handed her the oar with a little smile of gratitude.
“You’re a trump, Katy,” he whispered.
Darkness dropped softly in the timber. They heard a distant splash where a muskrat had taken to the water. Every one wished solemnly by the evening star. And two of the wishes came true in record 269time. The Captain wished that he might find the son so long lost to him. Katy wished–she didn’t quite put the wish into words–but she did want Ernest to have what he wanted. One by one the other stars twinkled forth and the darkness deepened till their faces were dim, white blurs, and the girls’ pink-and-blue dresses faded into patches of dusk in the blackness. Fireflies winked in the gloom. At the Captain’s suggestion, Katy and Ernest rested on their oars. They stopped singing and listened to the night’s silences–silences broken by rustling movements from a thicket on the farther bank or by eery creakings of the branches overhead. The little group felt vaguely the bigness of things, though no one but the Captain knew exactly why.
It was ten o’clock before they went back to the house. Wing had performed a miracle in the meantime; the boy’s suits were not only dried, but neatly pressed.
Mrs. Morton let them all sleep late the next morning in view of the long journey ahead for Ernest and the girls.
Poor Sherm found this last day trying. His father’s health was not improving and a fear lay close in his heart that he should never see him again. It was almost more than he could bear to hear the girls talk about going home. He eased the ache by keeping at work. Dr. Morton had already initiated 270him into Ernest’s duties. The others were too busy to think much about Sherm but Chicken Little, who sat beside him at the table, noticed that he scarcely tasted his dinner. She started to remark about it, but a glance at Sherm’s drawn face warned her in time.