Without giving Louise a chance to change her mind, Penny hung up the receiver and returned to the kitchen. After fortifying herself with oatmeal, a glass of orange juice, bacon, two rolls and sundry odds and ends, she started off to meet Louise. Her chum, looking none too cheerful, awaited her near Ottman’s dock.
“Why did you ask me to meet you at this particular place, Penny?” she inquired. “It was a block out of my way.”
“I thought we might rent one of Ottman’s boats and row down to the bridge. It will be easier than walking along the mud flats.”
“You think of everything,” Louise said admiringly. “But where’s the proprietor of this place?”
Boats of all description were fastened along the dock, but neither Burt Ottman nor his sister were visible. Not far from a long shed which served as ticket office and canoe-storage house, an empty double-deck motor launch had been tied to a pier. An aged black and white dog drowsed on its sunny deck.
“Guess the place is deserted,” Penny commented. After wandering about, she sat down on an overturned row boat which had been pulled out near the water’s edge.
The boat moved beneath her, and an irate voice rumbled: “Would you mind getting off?”
Decidedly startled, Penny sprang to her feet.
As the boat was pushed over on its side, a girl in grimy slacks, rolled from beneath it. Barely twenty years of age, her skin was rough and brown from constant exposure to wind and sun. A smear of varnish decorated one cheek and she held a can of caulking material in her hand.
“I’m sorry,” said Penny, smiling. “Do you live under that boat?”