The first of July was a day so perfect that it might well have been made to order. The brilliant blue sky held little wisps of clouds that were scattered by a steady, gentle wind.
“That taxi will never come and I just can’t wait another instant. It should have been here long ago. I just know we’ll be late,” and Jane bobbed up from her chair and rushed to the window at the sound of every car that passed.
Mr. Wing had called them up the night before and asked them all to be out at City Island by ten o’clock. He planned to have lunch and be on the way by one.
“Patience, my dear sister, is like—well, something or other—I can’t remember just what, but it is a good old saying,” Jack flung over his shoulder as he went to answer the knock of the boy who had come to tell them that their taxi was waiting.
Mabel and Mr. Wing met them and took them down to the foot of one of the many little wharves that jutted out in the harbor.
“Frances is already on board. There wasn’t room in the tender for all of us,” Mabel explained. “Oh! I am so happy I can hardly stand it. It almost killed me when Ruth couldn’t come. You know she is taking some sort of social service course this summer and didn’t feel that she ought to stop right in the middle of it.”
“Yes, it must have been a disappointment,” agreed Ellen. “But maybe this will cheer you up some. I had a telegram from Anne Follet this morning saying that she and Ruth would try to be in New York for a few days when we get back.”
“Splendid, marvelous!” bubbled Mabel, who was hard to depress for long.
“Miss Pellew,” suggested Mr. Wing, “you come out and have lunch with us and I’ll have one of the men set you ashore directly after. I’d like to have you see the boat.”
“You are very kind, indeed,” said Aunt Min, rather hurriedly. “But couldn’t you point out your boat to me from here?”