“Hurrah for the _Patsy D._,” sang out Ted from the couch corner.
“I don’t care if you do make fun of it. She’s the _Patsy D._ all the same,” said Sue, stoutly.
“How can she be the _Patsy D._?” asked Polly, teasingly.
“Well, she is,” retorted Sue. “Maybe her real name’s Patricia.”
“My boat is the _Witch Cat_ and Kate’s the _Hurricane_,” said Ted slowly; “so we shall not have the trouble of naming ours.”
“Tom says my boat is called the _Spray_. Do you like that, Polly?”
“Not very much. I thought I’d change it to the _Lurline_, or _Lorelie_.”
“I like the _Spray_ the best. The name of the yacht Dorothy and Bess Vaughan sail is the _Nixie_. You don’t want to get too near to that. Crullers, have you named yours? It’s the smallest one in the lot, isn’t it?”
“Yes. Her name is the _Yum-Yum_. The sail is like a junk boat’s,” Crullers announced, thoughtfully; “or a bat’s wing.”
“Tom says the boys fitted it out that way, just for a novelty. It’s broad, and deep, and wide, and positively unsinkable.”
“I’ve got two life preservers, and three ring buoys in the lockers,” Crullers said. “Tom and the Captain put them in there so I’d feel perfectly safe and easy.”
“Safe and easy? Safe and easy?” Aunty Welcome’s voice came from the kitchen. “Dey ain’t nuffin on earth could make me feel easy a-sailing round on de face ob de deep like a leviathan. You couldn’t get me on dat waste of waters in sech a li’l’ boat for all de gold in de bowels ob de earth. No, sah.”
“Oh, but, Aunty, you’re going in swimming with us some day,” coaxed Polly.
“Deed, I wouldn’t any more’n I’d step into an open grabe and pull de cover in after me,” protested Welcome. “Last night I couldn’t sleep a wink a-listening to de rolling ob de waves.”
“Girls, just look out there,” cried Kate suddenly, as she rose and pointed over the bay towards the Point Light. It was past sunset, the purple hour, as Polly always called it, and the whole world lay wrapped in softest violet. From somewhere beyond the Point, a deep, long-drawn whistle sounded, then another, then another. A faint sound of music drifted to them on the night air, and as the steamer rounded, they caught a glimpse of her cabin lights, a row of gleaming diamonds against the gloom of the twilight. Then a search-light sent a quick arm of radiance flashing over the bay, and for a second the little group on the porch were right in its path, before it swept on.