"Gosh, this is too much like work," groaned Kent, at last. "I'll tell
you, let's play the finding of Friday's father."

"I don't want to be tied up in a boat," protested, Margery, at once.

"Mardy not in boat," chorused little Patience, toddling to the water's
edge and throwing in a handful of sand.

"Isn't she a love!" sighed Margery.

"Huh, you girls make me sick," snorted Kent. "We won't tie you in the
boat. We'll bring the boat in and get you, then we'll anchor it out
where it is now, and--and--I'll go get Smith's rowboat, and Friday and
I'll come out and rescue you."

Margery hesitated. "Aw, come on!" urged Kent. "Don't be such a 'fraid
cat. That's why us kids don't like you, you're such a silly,
dressed-up doll."

The banker's daughter flushed. Though she loved the pretty clothes and
though the sense of superiority to other children, carefully cultivated
by her mother, was the very breath of her nostrils, she had never been
quite so happy as this afternoon when grubbing on an equality with
these three inferior children.

"I'm not afraid at all and I'm just as dirty as Lydia is. Go ahead
with your old boat."

They tethered Patience with Kent's cord to one of the willow trees and
Margery was paddled out several boat lengths from the shore and the