“It was so wonderful lying there and listening to the water lapping against the boat that I tried my best to keep awake. But I couldn’t. And then this morning when I awoke there was a beautiful fog and I could hear bells sounding and now and then a great, deep fog-horn on some boat. It was perfect! From my bed I can look out of the windows and see the river, and when the sun came out for a little while, quite early, it was beautiful!”
“Yes, ma’am,” agreed Laurie. “For myself, I never cared much for fog-horns, but maybe the kind they have here are different. I’m awfully glad you slept so well, though, and—and like it.”
“Like it! Oh, Mr. Laurie, I can never, never thank you enough for finding this beautiful home for me!”
“Oh, that wasn’t anything,” muttered Laurie.
“Why, Laurie Turner,” exclaimed Polly, “it was wonderful! The rest of us might have passed this boat a thousand times and never thought of making it into a—an apartment!”
“Please, Polly dear,” Miss Comfort protested, “not an apartment! I want it just what it is, a boat—my boat. You don’t think, do you”—she appealed to Laurie—“that it would do to change the name? Of course the Pequot Queen is very pretty, but I would so like to call it after grandfather’s ship there.” Her gaze went to the oil-painting on the wall.
“Don’t see why not,” said Laurie. “All we’d have to do would be to paint out the old name. What was your grandfather’s ship called, ma’am?”
“The Lydia W. Frye,” replied Miss Comfort raptly. “He named her after my grandmother. She was one of the New Jersey Fryes.”
Laurie had a slight fit of coughing, which he recovered from so abruptly, when he encountered Ned’s scowl, that he nearly choked. “A nice name,” declared Ned sternly. “I’m sure we could change the letters on the bow.”
“Oh, now I don’t believe I’d want you to go to all that trouble,” said Miss Comfort. “I’ll just call it the Lydia W. Frye to myself, and that will do quite well. Now I’m going to give you some tea.”