"Do go!" repeated Mr. Watson, laughing. "Do you expect to sail in a regatta, Bessie?"
"To be sure I do! I must go, father! I have been longing, ever since we had the yacht, to sail in a real live race."
"But, Bessie, we must make a night run to Portland."
"So much the better! I shall enjoy it above all things. My state-room on board is just as good as my chamber up stairs, and I like it better."
"Your aunt Mary is sick, and cannot go with you," suggested her father, alluding to Mrs. McGilvery.
"But you are going, father," persisted Bessie.
"True, I am; but——"
"Do let me go, father."
"I suppose you must go if you insist upon it."
"I do insist with all my might!" exclaimed Bessie, delighted with the prospect.