Nid and Nod by Ralph Henry Barbour — Read

The following afternoon saw the boys, minus Kewpie, escorting Polly and Mae to the _Pequot Queen_. Mrs. Deane had begged off. One mustn't expect all April days to be fine, and this particular day proved it. It had showered off and on during the forenoon, and now, at half-past three, the rain was coming down hard and fast. The girls wore rain-coats over their Sunday gowns, and Ned and Laurie were draped in colorful yellow oilskins. Bob, in an old Mackinaw jacket, huddled under the dripping eaves of one of the two umbrellas. It seemed a particularly long way to the _Pequot Queen_ under these circumstances, and it was a rather bedraggled quintet that at last filed into the cabin. Once there, however, discomforts were forgotten. A fire in the stove defied the dampness of the outside world; a kettle sang cozily; the white light that entered the open windows flashed on polished surfaces; and the bowl of flowers on the table added a cheerful note of color. And then there was the little hostess, all smiles of welcome and concerned murmurs over dripping coats and wet skirts.

The coats were laid aside quickly, and the visitors found seats, Polly and Mae occupying the same arm-chair, since there were but five chairs in the cabin and not even Laurie would have thought of sitting on Miss Comfort's immaculate blue and white spread! The lack of a sixth chair troubled Miss Comfort considerably. Bob pointed out that even had she possessed such a thing there wouldn't have been room for it and some one would have had to sit out on deck! And Polly and Mae assured in chorus that they didn't _mind_ sitting together, not one _bit_.