“I was wishing I could do something pleasant this fine day; something very new and interesting, for the wind makes me feel frisky and gay.”
“Suppose we take a pull over to the Island? I intended to go this afternoon; but if you feel more like it now, we can be off at once.”
“I do! I do! I'll come in fifteen minutes, uncle. I must just scrabble my room to rights, for Phebe has got a great deal to do.”
Rose caught up the rugs and vanished as she spoke, while Dr. Alec went in, saying to himself, with an indulgent smile,
“It may upset things a trifle, but half a child's pleasure consists in having their fun when they want it.”
Never did duster flap more briskly than the one Rose used that day, and never was a room “scrabbled” to rights in such haste as hers. Tables and chairs flew into their places as if alive; curtains shook as if a gale was blowing; china rattled and small articles tumbled about as if a young earthquake was playing with them. The boating suit went on in a twinkling, and Rose was off with a hop and a skip, little dreaming how many hours it would be before she saw her pretty room again.
Uncle Alec was putting a large basket into the boat when she arrived, and before they were off Phebe came running down with a queer, knobby bundle done up in a water-proof.
“We can't eat half that luncheon, and I know we shall not need so many wraps. I wouldn't lumber the boat up so,” said Rose, who still had secret scares when on the water.
“Couldn't you make a smaller parcel, Phebe?” asked Dr. Alec, eyeing the bundle suspiciously.
“No, sir, not in such a hurry,” and Phebe laughed as she gave a particularly large knob a good poke.