"Oh, Polly Jolly! sell us some; will you?" cried Wyn, eagerly. "We're so hungry." "Do, do!" chorused several of the other girls and boys aboard the _Happy Day_. Polly, smiling, held up a long withe on which wriggled at least two dozen silvery fish. "Aren't they beauties?" she demanded. "Wait! I'll row out." She had already raised her anchor. Now she sat down, seized the short oars, and plunged them into the water. How she could row! Even Bessie Lavine murmured some enthusiastic praise of the boatman's daughter. Her skiff shot alongside the motor boat. She caught the gunwale, and then held up the string of fish again. "How much, Miss Jarley?" asked Dave. "Half a dollar. Is that too much?" "It looks too little; but I suppose you know what you can get for them at the Forge," he said. "And this saves me rowing down there," returned the brown girl, smiling and blushing under the scrutiny of so many eyes. Wyn leaned over the rail, took the fish, and kissed Polly on her brown cheek. "Dreadfully glad to see you, dear," she declared. "Won't you come over to the camp to-morrow and show us girls where--and how--to fish, too? We're crazy for a fishing trip." "Why--if you want me?" said Polly, her fine eyes slowly taking in the group of girls aboard the motor boat. All looked at her in a friendly way save Bessie, and she had her back to the girl. "I'll come," said Polly, blushing again; and then she pocketed, the piece of money Dave gave her, and pushed off a bit. "Is this really where your father came so near losing his life, Polly?" asked Wyn, seriously. "Yes, Miss Wyn. Right yonder. It was so thick he could not see the shore. A limb of that tree yonder--you can see where it was broken off; see the scar?" There was a long yellow mark high up on the tree trunk overhanging the pool where Polly had been fishing. "That limb brushed father out of the boat just as she struck. The snag must have torn a big hole in the bottom of the _Bright Eyes_. Lightened by his going overboard, she shot away--somewhere--toward the middle of the lake, perhaps. He knows that he gave the wheel a twirl just as he went overboard and that must have driven the nose of the boat around. "She shot away into the fog. He never saw or heard of her again. We paddled about for a week afterward--the bateau men and I--and we couldn't find it. Poor father was abed, you see, for a long time and could not help." "All a story, _I_ believe," whispered Bess, to Mina. "Oh, don't!" begged the tender-hearted girl. Perhaps Polly heard this aside. She plunged her oars into the water again and the skiff shot away. She only nodded when they sang out "Good-bye" to her.