“Probably Lord Kilmarnock looking for a wealthy bride,” said Chub. “I’ll ask him to-morrow if he has his kilts with him.”
“And his bagpipe,” Dick added.
“Come now, it’s a shame to spoil Harry’s romance,” Roy remonstrated. “We’ll call him His Lordship until we learn what he really is.”
“He’s already been the ‘Licensed Poet,’ ‘W. N.,’ ‘Seth Billings,’ and ‘Mr. William Noon,’” said Chub. “So I guess another name or two won’t matter. There’s just one thing I wouldn’t think of calling him, though.”
“What’s that?” asked Roy.
“Book agent,” Chub answered dryly.
[CHAPTER XIII]
BILLY ENTERTAINS
The next morning they started the work of transforming the Pup from a black-and-tan—I am using Chub’s expression—to a fox-terrier. They loaded a good-sized rock into the rowboat and from there lifted it over the side of the launch and placed it on the starboard seat. But as it didn’t raise the other side of the Pup high enough out of the water Harry was delegated to join the rock. With Harry perched on the coaming all was ready for the painters. So Dick, Roy, and Chub began work. Chub sat in the canoe and Dick and Roy in the rowboat. At first it was lots of fun, but presently their wrists began to ache, while, to add discouragement, they discovered that it would be necessary to put on at least two coats to hide the black paint beneath. Chub began to show signs of mutiny about eleven o’clock and was joined by Harry. Chub declared that his wrist was paralyzed and Harry said she was getting a headache and a backache, and that if they thought it was fun sitting there on that edge they might come and try it themselves. Both mutineers were, however, prevailed on to continue in service a few minutes longer, and at half-past eleven the Pup was painted with one coat of white from bow to stem on the port side. Then all hands were quite ready to quit work, Roy declaring that for his part he wished they hadn’t begun.