“We must stop at some place where there is a telephone,” said Mollie, “and I’ll send word to mamma that Paul is with me. She may be worried.” “Yes, do,” suggested Betty. A little later the girls saw that the boys were approaching a dock, the main one of a small town just below Deepdale. “Where are you going?” asked Grace of her brother. “Going to tie up for a minute. Frank and I want to make amends for sneaking aboard, so we thought you’d like some soda. There’s a grocery store here that keeps pretty good stuff.” “Oh, yes, I know Mr. Lagg!” exclaimed Mollie. “Barry Lagg is his name. He’s real quaint and jolly.” “Then let’s go ashore for the soda ourselves, and meet him,” suggested Grace. “I am very thirsty. What is Mr. Lagg’s special line of jollity?” she asked Mollie. “Oh, he makes up little verses as he waits on you. You’ll see,” was Mollie’s answer. I often stop in for a little something to eat when I am out rowing. He is a nice old gentleman, very polite, and he has lots of queer stories to tell.” “Has he dot any tandy?” inquired Paul, eagerly. “Oh, you dear, of course he has!” cried his sister. “You are getting as bad as Grace,” and she looked at her chum meaningly. Will skillfully laid the _Gem_ alongside the dock and soon the little party of young people were trooping up to the store, which was near the river front. “Ah, good day to you all—good day, ladies and gentlemen, every one, and the little shaver too!” cried Mr. Lagg, with a bow as they entered his shop. “What will you please to buy to-day? If it’s coffee or tea, just walk this way,” And, with this charming couplet Mr. Lagg started toward the rear of his store, where the aromatic odor of ground coffee indicated that he had spoken truly. “We’d like some of your good soda,” spoke Will. “Ha, soda. I don’t know that I have anything in the line of soda.” “No soda?” exclaimed Frank. “I mean I haven’t made up any poetry about that. I have about almost everything else in my store. Let me see—soda—soda——” He seemed searching for a rhyme. “Pagoda! Pagoda!” laughed Betty. “That is it!” exclaimed Mr Lagg. “Thank you for the suggestion. Let me see, now. How would this do? “If you wish to drink of Lagg’s fine soda, Just take your seat in a Chinese pagoda!” “Very good,” complimented Will. “We’ll dispense with the pagoda if you will dispense the soda.” “Ha! Good again! You are a punster, I see!” Mr. Lagg laughed genially, and soon provided the party with bottles of deliciously cool soda, and straws through which to partake of it, glasses being voted too prosaic. There came a protest from Paul, who was sharing the treat. “I tan’t dit no sody!” he cried. “It all bubbles up!” “No wonder! You are blowing down your straw. Pull up on it, just as if you were whistling backwards,” said Mollie. “Whistling backwards is a distinctly new way of expressing it,” commented Frank.