"Careful, my dear," said she.
Ethel knew what she meant, and flushed with temper. But both Ethel and her father, deep down in their hearts, pitied Mr. and Mrs. Merton. If they had known of the unscrupulous attack their son had caused to be made on Motor Matt, they would perhaps have spoken differently—or not at all.
Fortunately, it may be, for the four comprising the little party, a band on a near-by cruising boat began to play.
Then, a moment later, a din of cheers rolled over the lake.
"There's Ollie!" cried Mrs. Merton, starting up excitedly to flutter her handkerchief.
Yes, the Dart was coming down the open lane, having entered the course from the boathouse, where she had been lying ever since early morning. She was a 25-foot boat, with trim racing lines, and she shot through the water in a way that left no doubt of her speed.
"How's that?" cried Mr. Merton, nudging Mr. Lorry with his elbow. "Nearly everybody was expecting the Wyandotte, and just look what we're springing on you!"
"She looks pretty good," acknowledged Mr. Lorry.
"Well, I should say so!"
"But not good enough," went on Mr. Lorry.