Don't be getting nervous, now. Don't you
know I was elected commodore of the Green Pond Fishing Club only two
weeks ago?"

Mr. Bangs refrained from communicating the fact that the principal
occupation of the members of the Green Pond Fishing Club was the mixing
of certain refreshing liquids in tall glasses, and sipping them on the
verandah of a clubhouse.

The party therefore embarked. Mrs. Bangs was not wholly at ease,
however.

"Supposing there isn't any wind by and by, Augustus, and you have to
row. Why don't you take somebody along, to help? We've got lots to eat."

This idea, at least, seemed to strike Mr. Bangs favourably. He glanced
to where Henry Burns and his companions stood.

"Hello," he called, "want to go out for a sail? Got room enough. Take
you along."

The three boys stepped toward the boat.

"Not scared of the water, are you?" queried Mr. Bangs.

"Not unless it gets rough," replied Henry Burns, with a sly wink at
Harvey.

The three jumped aboard, and Coombs, with something like a grin at his
partner, shoved the boat's head off. He had got the jib and mainsail up,
and they caught what little breeze there was stirring. The _Flyaway_
drew away from the landing. To Bangs's embarrassment, however, the boom
suddenly swung inboard, swiped across the stern, causing him to duck
hastily, and almost knocking the bonnet off the lady with the pug dog.
Mr. Bangs had jibed the boat, greatly to his surprise. But no harm had
been done, as the wind was light.

Mr. Bangs laughed loudly. "Meant to tell you that was coming," he said.
"She'll sail better this way. Ever been on the water before, boys?"

Harvey nodded. "A little," he said.

"Well, the more you are used to it, the better you'll like it," said Mr.
Bangs. "Don't mind if she tips a little, if we get any wind. She sails
that way. Funny that jib flutters so. Better haul in on that rope there
and--and trim it."

Henry Burns, soberly following orders, did as requested. But it was
noticeable that the trimming did not seem to accomplish the result
desired by Mr. Bangs. In fact, as the _Flyaway_ was going dead before
the wind, it was quite apparent that no amount of trimming would make
the jib draw.

"It keeps on fluttering just the same, Augustus," said Mrs. Bangs, eying
the offending sail suspiciously. "Hadn't you better tie it some way?"

"Of course not," responded Mr. Bangs, loftily. "They will act that way
sometimes. Isn't that so, my lads?"

"