ded
to anchor in the harbor. Her foresail was lowered, and then her jib. As
she lost her headway, the anchor went overboard near where the Skylark
lay. Bobtail began to move off.

"I should like to see her, too, Robert. Can't you take me out to her?"
said Mrs. Taylor.

"Certainly, mother; come along," replied Little Bobtail; "but perhaps
they won't let us go on board of her, for I see some ladies on her
deck."

At the landing-steps they took a boat, and Bobtail pulled off to the
yacht.

CHAPTER IX.

THE PENOBSCOT.

Little Bobtail could not help looking behind him occasionally, as he
pulled the boat, to observe the beautiful proportions, and the comely,
tapering spars of the yacht. Beside the Penobscot, even the Skylark was
nowhere.

"Well that's the finest yacht I ever saw!" said he, lying upon his oars,
when he was near enough to take in the whole idea of the vessel. "She's
big enough to go around the world in, too."

"She's as nice as anything need be," replied Mrs. Taylor, with an
indifference which was very provoking to the young skipper.

She was looking at the people on the quarter-deck of the Penobscot,
rather than at the symmetrical hull and the graceful spars. There were
two ladies and two gentlemen. The old gentleman, seated near the wheel,
with long silver locks, and of grave and dignified mien, was the Hon.
Mr. Montague. His son, Colonel Montague, who had commanded a Maine
regiment during a portion of the war of the rebellion, was planking the
deck, dressed in the uniform of the New York Yacht Club. He was quite as
dignified as his father, though he was not forty yet. His wife was the
elegant lady who sat on a camp-stool gazing at the outline of the ragged
mountain which rises near the village. The young lady of twelve or
thirteen was Miss Grace Montague, the daughter of the colonel. She was
quite tall for her age, and looked very much like her mother. Mrs.
Taylor was gazing earnestly at these people.

Little Bobtail swung his boat about, and backed her up to the
accommodation-steps. The sailing-master, who also wore the Yacht Club
uniform, walked quietly to the ladder, shaking his head to intimate that
no visitors would be allowed on board. As Bobtail, who was not good at
taking a hint, especially when it did not agree with his inclination,
did not suspend his movements, the sailing-master walked down the steps
to the little platform.

"We don't allow any one to come on board to-nigh