"An adventure is one thing," said Ossie, "and getting drowned is something else again. Tell you what, Perry; if you are so keen for sport why don't you slip into the tender and run over to Vineyard Haven yourself? We'll follow along tomorrow, or maybe this afternoon."
"I want to see this town," said Joe. "There's lots to look at in here. Whaling ships and a museum and—and lots of romantic things."
"The whaling ships are all gone now," said Perry disdainfully. "They've chopped them all up and sold them by the cord for fire wood. I know, for we bought a lot of it once. It cost dad about ten dollars for express and didn't burn any different from any other wood. My grandmother—"
Steve groaned. "For the love of lemons, Perry, don't resurrect your grandmother. Let the poor old lady lie."
"She isn't dead," denied Perry indignantly. "She's ninety-one and a heap smarter than you are."
"Perry," charged Joe severely, "I distinctly remember you telling us that your grandmother died of sea-sickness."
"I didn't. I told you she ate lemons and—"
"Died of acid stomach? Oh, all right. I knew she was dead."
"Oh, dry up! She ate lemons to keep from being sea-sick, you idiot. And if you ate them you wouldn't have to lug around a lot of silly medicine that doesn't amount to a row of pins. And if—"
"All very interesting," interrupted Phil mildly, "but it isn't deciding whether we're to stay here or go on. Personally, I think that that should be up to the captain. If he isn't to decide whether the weather is right or wrong, who is?"