“Oh, that’s all right. I’m not complaining. Of course it was a fair race. The faster boat won.”
“I’m glad you think so,” spoke Cora, meaningly, as she thought of the partly-closed throttle.
“Oh, yes indeed. I’m satisfied!” he exclaimed in generous tones. “But is the dangerous place you spoke of near here?”
“Right ahead,” answered Cora, pointing to where the water was swirling in over some partly-hidden rocks. “Keep well out, and when you round the point you’ll be at Bayhead.”
“I’m greatly obliged to you,” was his reply. But Cora did not look at him, nor return his bow. She swung her boat around and started back for the bungalow. The young man, with a curious glance at her, bent over his motor to make some adjustment. In another instant his craft shot ahead, seemingly at greater speed than it had made at any time during the race.
“I don’t think much of him,” observed Lottie, as she took a more comfortable position on the cushions.
“Why not?” Belle asked.
“Because he didn’t even invite us to a tennis game, to say nothing of ice cream sodas, and there’s a place in Bayhead where they have the most delicious chocolate!”
“Lottie!” gasped Marita. “Would you have gone with him?”
“Oh, well,” with a shrug of her shoulders, “I don’t know as I would, only—he might have asked us.”