Mrs. Wood had taken especial pains in the preparation of the lunch, and even Zeb Fuller would have been compelled to admit that there was nothing “ghostly” about it. There was a funny sort of smile on Mrs. Dryer’s face when that span of horses was pulled up in front of the Doctor’s residence, but she had no other use for it than to keep it in its proper place, above her teeth, till Effie had taken her seat beside George Brayton and the “baroosh” disappeared beyond the trees of the village green. Then, indeed, her learned husband was glad enough to plead several engagements with the Academy trustees and hurry away to keep them. Prompt as had been the departure of Bar and Val and their friends, Zebedee Fuller and his faithful cronies had the start of them and were already tempting the perch and pickerel, when the “baroosh” came to a standstill in front of the somewhat heterogeneous home of Puff Evans. “It’s all right,” said Puff to Bar. “She’s ready, name and all. There’s heaps of bait under the seat and it’s a right down good day for fishin’. Only there may be squalls.” “Squalls?” The word lingered in Bar Vernon’s ear for a moment, but just then Effie Dryer exclaimed: “There she is. The prettiest boat on all Skanigo!” “Why, so she is,” replied Sibyl, “a very pretty boat, indeed. What’s her name, Mr. Vernon?” “Name?” repeated Bar, as the color began to climb up across his face. “There it is,” exclaimed Effie, “painted on the stern. Can’t you read? S-i-b-b-l-e, Sibble. Why, what a queer name. Did Puff name her?” “I should say he had,” exclaimed George Brayton, as he burst into a roar of laughter. “Don’t you see, Sibyl? She’s named after you. Only a few letters out of the way, that’s all.” Poor Bar! Puff was attending to something else just then, and Val Manning stood just where he could poke his elbow into Bar’s ribs without being noticed. As for Sibyl Brayton, she did not seem to see where the fun came in, but stepped right forward into the boat, like a brave and good girl as she was. Even Effie Dryer followed her with a face that was all one twinkle, but that did not let a single laugh get loose. There was need of at least one term at the Academy for Puff Evans, that was clear, and Bar was glad enough to busy himself with the fishing-tackle. His intended compliment had become a thing to be hidden from Zebedee Fuller, lest it should be carved on half the loose boards of Ogleport. There were only five of them, and the trim little craft did not seem to care a fig for a lighter load, as she danced away on the blue waves of Skanigo. George Brayton himself was a very good hand with a boat and he handled the graceful little _Sibyl_ in a way that made her passengers forget how very badly her name had been spelled for her.