The low, deep whistle sounded again, two gasoline dories chugged frantically backward, and the big white yacht, serene and heedless, steamed majestically up the course.
“Didn’t I tell you he always has his own way?” said the girl, coming up to Harry, who still leaned dazedly over the rail. “Now you are going to distinguish yourself—you’ve got to—for my sake!”
“How did you know I wanted to take that fellow’s place, Miss Crosby?”
“Stupid!” she said. “Do you think you’re the only person that knows how to deduce?”
“I’m afraid it’s a hopeless task, Miss Crosby. I haven’t been in training, you know. I’m all tired out, and they’re a pretty skillful pair—those college chaps—then—”
“They’re an insulting, conceited set—and their poetry is at-ro-cious! You’ve got to do it. You can beat them. I know you can!”
“Well, I guess that will help me to win, if anything can,” Harry said.
“Here, Harry, my boy,” said Mr. Danforth, coming up. “No time to be standing around talking with girls now. Come down in the cabin, and we’ll see if we can’t root out a jersey or bathing suit that’ll fit you—we’ll be up there in a minute.”
“Isn’t it wonderful! You’ve found them at last!” the girl said to Gordon when Harry had gone below. “And just to think, I was here to see you do it! And oh, I want so much to see him row!”
“You’ll see him row, all right,” said Gordon.