The two girls had followed the edge of the lake toward the landing, instead of taking the path through the wood. Suddenly they came in sight of the float and shack, with the several boats in Mr. Jarley's keeping. Back from the shore was a tiny cottage, painted red, its window sash and door striped with yellow. It was a gay little cot, and everything about it was as neat and as gaily painted as a Dutch picture. As Wyn and Frank came down the hill they saw Polly Jarley run out of the house and down to the landing. Her father was busy there at an overturned boat--evidently caulking the seams. The boatman's girl did not see her visitors coming; but Wyn and Frank got a good view of her, and the latter exclaimed to Wyn: "Why! she's as pretty as a picture! She's handsome! If she only had on nice clothes she would be a perfect beauty." "Wouldn't she?" returned Wyn, happily. "I think my Polly Jolly is just the _dearest_ looking creature. Isn't she brown? And what pretty feet and hands she has!" Polly wore a very short skirt, patched and stained. Her blouse was open at the throat, so that the soft roundness of the curve of her shoulder was plainly visible. Out of the open neck of the blouse her deeply tanned throat rose like a bronze column; the roses in her cheeks and on her lips relieved the sun-darkened skin. Her hair was in two great plaits and it was evident that she seldom troubled about a hat. She was lithe, graceful as she could be, and bubbling over with good health if not good spirits. And this was a morning--after the rain--to make even a lachrymose person lively. The smell of all growing things was in the nostrils--the warmth of the sun lapped one about like a mantle--it was a beautiful, beautiful day,--one to be remembered. Wyn shouted and started running down the hill. Polly heard her, turned to see who it might be who called, and recognizing her friend, set out to meet her quite as eagerly. "Oh, Miss Wynifred!" cried the boatman's daughter. "Polly Jolly! This is Frank Cameron." She kissed Polly warmly. "How fine you look, Polly! Tell me! will all we girls look as healthy and be as strong as you are, by the autumn? You're a picture!" "A pretty shabby one, I fear, Miss Wyn," protested Polly, yet smiling. "I am in the very oldest clothes I have, for there is much dirty work to be done around here. We have hardly got ready for the summer yet. Father has been so lame." "And you must introduce me to your father, Polly," Wyn said, quickly. "We have something for him to do--if he will be so kind." "All you need to do is to say what it is, Wynifred," responded Polly, warmly. "If either of us can do anything for you we will only be too glad."