“Freda! Freda!” called Bess. “You have not eaten yet, and I’m to do the dishes. Hurry this minute and just fill up! I must be finished in time for a nap, for I am nearly dead.”
Freda did eat, though somehow she felt unusually depressed. Even Cora’s encouraging words, given into Freda’s ear when no one else was at hand, did not seem to cheer her.
“Just come down to the bay and go out with me,” urged Cora. “I want to try the boat with the new control, and I don’t want to go out alone!”
“Of course I will go with you,” assented Freda. “I have only to change my blouse.”
The motor trip was delightful. The Chelton seemed to have missed the guiding hand of its fair owner, for while the new piece of mechanism was being put in Cora had not been using the boat.
“How different from the one we rode in this morning,” Freda remarked. “I always feel as if something were going to explode when I sit near a noise such as that old engine made. I wonder that a big house like the Laurel can keep such a tub.”
“Guests are always glad to get on the water,” answered Cora, “and I suppose they are not particular as long as they do not have to pay extra for the sail. Most of the hotels down here hire out their launches, I believe.”
They headed straight for the island, and then ran around it to come back on the east shore. In many of the passing boats were young friends of Cora, and all sorts of messages were shouted back and forth.
“I guess I had better go in early,” Cora remarked, “as we really have not decided on this evening’s plans. Some want the hop and others want the sail.”
“And I have a lot to do, too,” Freda said. “Mother and I have to take so much time from what we would like to do for you girls.”