“Then it’s too late,” murmured Chub serenely. “Call me before lunch.” “He won’t get up, Dick,” announced Roy. “You’d better come.” “No!” yelled the tardy one, jumping as though a yellow-jacket had wandered into bed with him. “I’m up, Dick, honest! Ain’t I, Roy?” “You’re half up,” was the answer. “I want to see you all up before I leave.” “All right.” Chub stretched his arms above his head, yawned and stumbled to his feet. “What time did you say it was?” “About ten minutes after eight.” “Phew! Don’t it get late early? I did sleep, didn’t I? Go ahead and eat, Roy, I’ll be out in two shakes of a lamb’s tail. My, but I’m sleepy! Say, what time was it when we got to bed last night, anyway?” “A little after eleven.” “Is that all? I thought it must have been about one. These parties are very unsettling affairs. Say, but wasn’t Billy funny with his imitations?” “He surely was,” answered Roy, smiling reminiscently. “We had a lot of fun, didn’t we?” “Well, rather! And can’t that Floating Artist sing, what? Say, if I had a voice like that I’d never do a lick of work!” “I haven’t noticed that you are killing yourself with labor,” answered Roy as he moved toward the door of the tent. Chub reached for a shoe, but Roy was gone before he got his hand on it. So he sat down again on the side of his bunk and thought of some of the funny things that Billy Noon had said last evening and grinned and chuckled all to himself until a little breeze came frolicking in through the door bringing a fragrant aroma of coffee. Then Chub came back to earth and tumbled feverishly into his clothes. Harry was to sit again for the Floating Artist at ten o’clock and so was not coming over to the camp for breakfast. Besides, as to-morrow was Thursday, Harry had much to do in regard to her birthday party at the Cottage, and Fox Island was not likely to see much of her before Thursday evening at seven, at which hour the celebration on board the _Jolly Roger_ was to commence. After breakfast Dick made a bee-line for his paint-pots and brushes, and it took all Chub’s and Roy’s diplomacy to restrain him from going to work again on the _Pup_. “Honest, Dick,” said Chub, “there’s too much to do to-day and to-morrow for us to start messing with paint. Wait until after Harry’s birthday, like a good chap.” “What is there to do to-day?” demanded Dick. “Why,” answered Chub, “we--er--why, we’ve got to go to the Cove to buy provisions for one thing, and--” “We can get those to-morrow just as well.” “But think of the time it will take to finish that painting,” begged Roy. “We’ve got to find another rock and lug it out there first.” “Yes, and there’ll be only you and Roy to do the painting,” said Chub, “because I’ll have to sit on the gunwale to heel her over so as you can reach the bottom; and that means an all-day job.” “Oh, if you fellows don’t want to help,” said Dick with dignity, “I guess I can get it done somehow.”