“Eight!” exclaimed Laurie.
“Of course. We’re all through breakfast at half-past seven, and—”
“But, Polly, maybe that would be too early for the boys, dear,” interposed her mother. “Perhaps they don’t have breakfast—”
“It’s all right, Mrs. Deane,” said Ned. “We’ll meet you over at the school corner at eight. Laurie was just thinking that perhaps we ought to start earlier, weren’t you, old son?”
“Er—oh, yes! Sure! Still, eight will do, I guess.”
“Then that’s arranged,” said Polly. “Now let’s talk about the boat some more.”
The next morning they all set out according to schedule to show Miss Comfort the Pequot Queen. Laurie had doubts as to the wisdom of this, for he thought it would have been better if they could have fixed up the boat a little before exhibiting it. But, as Polly said, Miss Comfort would never have waited. Laurie need not have entertained any uneasiness. Even the river threw Miss Comfort into a tremor of delight, and after that she walked so fast that Mrs. Deane had hard work to keep up with her. When, while still at a distance, Laurie pointed out the Pequot Queen with a few stammered words of apology, Miss Comfort stopped still, clasped her hands, this morning adorned with black silk mitts, and gazed long and silently. The boys viewed her doubtfully and anxiously, but doubt and anxiety speedily fled, for the little lady’s face expressed something very close to rapture. The boys looked away. Ned whistled a few tuneless notes softly. Then they went on, Miss Comfort walking faster than ever and saying no word.
“Well,” said Laurie later, “you’ve got to hand it to her for imagination. Why, when I said to her, ‘Here’s where the stove goes,’ or ‘You could put your bureau here, Miss Comfort,’ blessed if I don’t think she actually saw them there! Once, after she’d decided to put the kitchen table over on the further side of the cabin, she was over there a few minutes later and sort of feeling around just like she was trying to find the rolling-pin or something!”
“And wasn’t she pleased?” asked Bob. “Gosh, you’d have thought we’d presented her with a million-dollar castle! The old girl is certainly happy!”
“Cut out the ‘old girl’ stuff,” growled Ned. “She’s a lady.”