"I don't know why, but I don't seem able to get up a great deal of enthusiasm for that idea." Her fingers were upon the steering wheel, longingly. Eyes, too, were longing. Suddenly she started the engine. "We'll just run round the head of the Island," she said.
So they started up the river—the river as blue and lovely as it had been that day a year before when she had cheated it, and had begun to see that life was cheating her.
"Worth," she asked, "what is there on the other side of that little island?"
"Why, Aunt Kate—why on the other side of it is the man that mends the boats."
"Oh, that so? Funny I never thought of that.
"But I suppose," she began again, "he wouldn't be very likely to be there mending boats now?"
"Why yes, Aunt Kate, he might be."
"You heard anything about him, Worth?"
"Yes sir; Watts says he has cut him out. He says he's on to him."
"That must be a bitter blow," said Aunt Kate. "Watts getting on to one—and cutting one out.