“Now,” said Garry, “I’m going to tell you my vote. And if there’s a prize, I think I’ll win it. I vote to name the new dory—Nymph.”
Jeffrey’s eyes were fixed on Garry with an intense wondering stare and Garry, looking quizzically at him, said, “Isn’t that a peach of a name?”
“It’s—it’s—somebody else thought of it—it——” Jeffrey’s utterance fizzled out in another stare.
“And speaking of boats, how about it, Jeff, do you think you could walk as far as Catskill Landing—seven full grown miles?”
“Sure I can! Didn’t I——”
“Well, then, by jingoes, if tomorrow’s clear, we’ll take that long promised hike—just you and me——”
“Not Raymond?”
“Nope—just you and me; and we’ll have a squint at that wonderful boat of yours, hey? And then I’ll show you the Bridgeboro Troop’s boat, even if we have to trespass, and I’ll tell you all about it.”
Jeffrey grew excited at once.
“Are you—are you sure you won’t change your mind?” he demanded.