“Oh, we’ll fix it somehow. Besides, maybe they won’t come. We haven’t heard a word from Harry yet.”
“Well, the letter had to be forwarded from Ferry Hill to her aunt’s, I suppose,” explained Roy. “We’ll probably hear from her to-day or to-morrow. Half the time we’ll be tied up to the shore, any way, and we can easily enough set that little table on the ground.”
“Maybe there’d be room for it on the rear deck,” suggested Dick. “Kind of under the stairs, you know. Let’s go and see.”
A survey of the space showed that the plan was quite feasible, especially as Dick volunteered to sit on the railing.
“There’s another thing we’ll have to have,” said Chub, “and that’s a place to wash when Harry’s with us. Suppose we haul that little green chest out here and put a tin basin on it. We could bring water from the kitch—the galley.”
“That’s all right,” laughed Roy, “but why not use your precious folding bucket and dip the water out of the river?”
“I hadn’t thought of that,” Chub responded. “That’s a good scheme. We’ll hang it on a nail, over the basin.”
“Where the mischief are we going to keep those extra cots when we’re not using them?” Dick asked.
“I found just the place for them,” Chub replied. “We’ll lean them up in the passage beyond the bedroom door and keep the outside door at that end closed. We don’t need to use it anyway.”
Other problems were solved, and then luncheon, which they had brought with them, was spread on the table in the forward cabin and they set to with a will. Before they had finished the florist appeared on the scene with geraniums and periwinkle for the flower boxes. By the time he had transferred the plants from pots to the boxes along the edge of the upper deck, he had managed to mess the new white paint up pretty badly and the boys spent the better part of half an hour cleaning up with water and brushes. By that time it was well toward the middle of the afternoon and they were quite ready to go home.