“Cast off!” says Payne, and out between the rocks we shoot, with Aunty and Mrs. Hollister wavin’ from the veranda.  Anyway, that was some relief.  This wa’n’t Aunty’s day for picnickin’.

She didn’t know what she was missin’, I expect; for, say, that’s good breathin’ air up off Boothbay.  There’s some life and pep to it, and rushin’ through it that way you can’t help pumpin’ your lungs full.  Makes you glow and tingle inside and out.  Makes you want to holler.  That, and the sunshine dancin’ on the water, and the feel of the boat slicin’ through the waves, the engine purrin’ away a sort of rag-time tune, and the pennants whippin’, and all that scenery shiftin’ around to new angles, not to mention the fact that Vee’s along—­well, I was enjoyin’ life about then.  Kind of got into my blood.  Everything was lovely, and I didn’t care what happened next.

Me bein’ the crew, I expect I should have been fussin’ around up front, coilin’ ropes, or groomin’ the machinery.  But I can’t make my eyes behave.  I has to turn around every now and then and grin.  Mabel don’t seem to mind.

“William,” says she, signalin’ me, “see if you can’t find a box of candy in that basket.”

I hops over the steerin’ seat back into the standin’ room and digs it out.  Also I lingers around while Mabel feeds in a few pieces.

“Have some?” says she.  “You’re so good-natured looking.”

“That’s my long suit,” says I.

Then I see Vee’s mouth corners twitching and she takes her turn.  “You live around here, I suppose, William?” says she.

“No such luck,” says I.  “I come up special to get this job.”

“But,” puts in Mabel, holdin’ a fat chocolate cream in the air, “Tucker wasn’t hurt until yesterday.”

“That’s when I landed,” says I.

“Someone must have sent you word then,” says Vee, impish.

“Uh-huh,” says I.  “Someone mighty special too.  Sweet of her, wa’n’t it?”

“Oh!  A girl?” asks Mabel, perkin’ up.

“The girl,” says I.

“Tee-hee!” snickers Mabel, nudgin’ Vee delighted.  “Is—­is she very nice, William?  Tell us about her, won’t you?”

“Oh, do!” says Vee, sarcastic.

“Well,” says I, lookin’ at Vee, “she’s about your height and build.”

“How interesting!” says Mabel, with another nudge.  “Go on.  What kind of hair?”

“Never was any like it,” says I.

“But her complexion,” insists Mabel, “dark or fair?”

“Pink roses in the mornin’, with the dew on,” says I.

“Bravo!” says Mabel, clappin’ her hands.  “And her eyes?”

“Why,” says I, “maybe you’ve looked down into deep sea water on a still, gray day?  That’s it.”

“She must be a beauty,” says Mabel.

“Nothing but,” says I.

“I hope she has a nice disposition too,” says she.

“Nope,” says I, shakin’ my head solemn.