“I didn’t think you would let me sail up the lake with you,” laughed he.
“Why not?”
“Like a good many other fellows, I have toadied to Waddie Wimpleton, and helped him hunt you down.”
“I don’t care anything about that now.”
“I see you don’t. Can I help you?” he asked, as I began to hoist the mainsail.
“You may take the peak-halyard, if you please.”
We hoisted the jib and mainsail, and stood up the lake with a gentle breeze. I took the elaborately carved tiller in my hand, and if ever a young man was proud of his boat, his name was Wolfert Penniman. The Belle fully realized all even of the auctioneer’s enthusiastic description.
“Don’t you belong to the institute now, Dick?” I asked, after we had said all that it was necessary to say in praise of the Belle, and after my companion had related to me more of her history than I knew before.
“Not much,” said he, laughing; “my name is still on the books, and I am still captain of Company A, Wimpleton Battalion; but I don’t go to school half the time.”
“Why not?” I asked curiously.