certain sundry meetings at different places such as Ashby’s Shop where the friends grouped in Polly’s office, at Fabian’s dinner table, and at Mrs. Ashby’s home of an evening, it was decided that the trip outlined by Polly and Eleanor at Mr. Dalken’s dinner party was the most alluring of any. Hence it was agreed to follow their plan.
Once it was decided to cruise to South America the next question to decide was when to start. Unanimously it was agreed to start the following week. The yacht needed no overhauling as it was always kept in perfect order to sail at a few hours’ notice. Mr. Dalken seemed anxious to get away from the City, saying his doctor ordered him to go without delay, and the girls were more than anxious to get away.
The days following the sudden decision to start in a week’s time, were filled with hurrying, scurrying females of the party, especially Elizabeth Dalken. She shopped as if she expected to visit an Emperor and attend Court instead of going on board her father’s private Yacht for a pleasure trip to South America.
Everybody felt it necessary to advise everybody else about what to take and what not to take. It seemed to Polly that the days fairly crept by, instead of galloping past as they had been wont to do in the last three years. But everything comes to an end – even long, tedious waiting for a certain day to arrive. And then the day came – a day of unusual sunshine and balmy breezes: a perfect day for a sea voyage to begin.
To the two eager girls who waved last goodbys to the maids at the Fabian home it seemed that there never had been such a crowded week of work as the one just finished. As the auto started to the Yacht Club wharf, even Mr. Fabian, usually so peaceful and quiet, sighed as if he, too, felt thankful that the rush and confusion was over.
“Goodness me! Look at the crowd waiting on the dock to see us off!” cried Polly, looking from the window of the car.
Eleanor looked and exclaimed at the unexpected number of groups, whereas it had been expected that only a few of the young men would be present to bid the girls goodby. Mr. and Mrs. Ashby and Ruth, Mrs. Courtney and Elizabeth Dalken expected to be on board the yacht; and Eleanor Maynard’s father from Chicago had wired that he would wait at Jacksonville, Florida, for them to pick him up, as he had found it impossible to leave his banking affairs in time to start with them from New York. Polly’s father and mother were at Pebbly Pit and they wired their regrets that they could not join the merry mariners, but John and Anne expected to arrive in New York in time to say goodby to the party. Then where could these many people have come from? It was soon explained.
As the Fabian car came up close to the Dalken yacht, Mr. Fabian leaned out of the open window to try and see if he recognized the number of friends who had come to wish them bon voyage. When he drew back into the automobile he was smiling. The girls had no time to ask him the cause of his amusement, because the chauffeur stopped the car and immediately, a number of handsome young men crowded close to the door and began showering questions upon the youthful occupants.
Then Polly got out and looked around, fully expecting to find her father and mother waiting to surprise her at her sailing away for the adventure to Southern Seas. But the girls were doomed to a fall in their vanity – thinking all these persons on the dock were assembled to bid them goodby! To their chagrin they saw that the majority of merry-makers were there to see another family of friends off! not one of them had the slightest acquaintance with Mr. Dalken’s party.
In the group eagerly waiting for the last arrivals – the unit composed of Mr. and Mrs. Fabian and Nancy, Polly and Eleanor, – were to be seen our old friends Mr. and Mrs. Latimer and Tom. Tom had come all the way from the mine at Pebbly Pit in order to see Polly, and hold her hand just once before having her go so far away. There, too, were Dr. and Mrs. Evans and Kenneth; John Baxter and Mrs. Courtney. Evidently the owner of the yacht and his daughter Elizabeth were already on board, as a shout, to attract Polly’s attention to the beautiful craft, came from a number of young persons who were talking in the prow of the yacht.
“Look, Nolla! Isn’t that Paul Stewart and Pete Maynard up there with Elizabeth Dalken?” whispered Polly hurriedly, as she tried to see who were the individual members in the group.
“Well! If that doesn’t beat all! Come on, Poll – let’s run in and shake hands. I haven’t had a word with Paul for so long that my tongue cleaves to the roof of my mouth.” And Eleanor ran.
Polly was forcibly detained at the moment she started to follow Eleanor. Tom Latimer had caught hold of her coat sleeve and was saying: “Aren’t you going to wait here to see John and Anne when they arrive?”
“Oh! Aren’t we all going on board? Why not visit with John and Anne, and all the rest of you, while on the yacht?” asked Polly.
Tom always became humble when in Polly’s presence, and this occasion was no exception to the rule. He meekly followed at Polly’s heels as she led the way up the steps of the wharf to the gangplank. In another moment Polly was surrounded by her young friends and dragged to the luxurious lounging room on the deck, where wicker chairs and tables and divans invited one to sit and enjoy life.
A few moments after seating herself in one of the wide-armed chairs – chosen in order to compel Tom to select another chair and not try to squeeze close to her side as he would have done had she seated herself on the divan – Polly saw Mr. Dalken hurrying to join the group of young friends.
“Oh, Polly! I had a ’phone message from John – he says Anne and he just got in at Grand Central and would hurry here in a taxi. He must be almost here by this time, I judge, so you keep on the look-out for them, will you? I have so many other things to attend to,” was Mr. Dalken’s request.
“All right, Dalky! Go on and do your duty, but don’t kill yourself working for others – as you always do,” laughed Polly, waving a hand at him.
“There, Polly! Now you’d better come with me and stand at the rail to watch for your brother and Anne,” advised Tom, anxiously.
“Yes? and have you stand there and talk nonsense to me, eh,” laughed Polly, softly, in order that others might not hear.
Tom bit his lip. Polly knew she was uncharitable, but she rebelled at Tom’s constant tagging her when she wanted to enjoy the company of other friends, too, and she generally spoke impulsively and regretted it later.
At this crisis between the two conditional lovers, Eleanor unconsciously played the good fairy by drawing Polly’s attention to a little side-play between Elizabeth and Pete Maynard. They had quietly withdrawn from the group of young people and were now enjoying a tête-à-tête back of the funnel which acted as a partial screen for them.
“I just wanted to say that Elizabeth’s mother has trained her carefully to encourage only such young men as can show an attractive bank-roll. Totty never deigned to notice Ken and Paul, but quickly attached herself to Pete. Well, Pete is playing the same game as Elizabeth’s mother plays, and Dad knows too much to let Pete use his money for fortune hunters!” was Eleanor’s sarcastic remark.
“But you must remember, Nolla, Totty isn’t what one might call a fortune-hunter, any more than Pete is. Mr. Dalken has no other heir to his wealth, and some day Elizabeth will have more than she can use,” remonstrated Polly.
“Pooh! Mr. Dalken is a handsome youngish man, Polly, and our Mrs. Courtney is a fascinating, lonely youngish woman – there!”
At such frank match-making between the two girls, Tom Latimer gasped. The girls laughed at his shocked expression, and Eleanor added in a whisper: “Tom, old dear, why do you think Elizabeth’s mother sent her on this cruise with the father who is so heartily detested by the social moth, and has been completely ignored for years?”
“W-e-ell,” stammered Tom, innocently, “I’m sure I don’t know. Now that you mention it, I think I can see a little light.”
Eleanor laughed as she patted Tom on the back. “That’s a good boy! Go to the head of the class!”
Just as a taxi drove recklessly up to the wharf, the whistle on the yacht blew a terrific blast. Every one glanced apprehensively at the pilot house to see what this meant. Surely the Captain had no intentions of leaving then and there! Mr. Dalken was seen to hurry