ness to keep the
Water Lily in spotless order and this invasion of muddy boots and
dirt-scattering baskets fretted her. Besides, like all the rest of
that "ship's company," her one desire was to make Mrs. Calvert
perfectly comfortable and happy. She knew that this intrusion of
strangers would greatly annoy her hostess and felt she must put an
end to it at once. But how?

Dorothy rose to the occasion. Assuming all the dignity her little
body could summon she clapped her hands for silence and unexpectedly
obtained it. People climbing the crooked stairs to the roof and the
"Skipper's bridge" craned their necks to look at her; those testing
the arrangement of the canvas partitions between the cots on one side
stopped with the partitions half-adjusted and stared; while the
chattering peddlers listened, astonished.

"Excuse me, good people, but this boat is private property. None
should come aboard it without an invitation. Please all go away at
once. I'll step ashore with this lady and there we'll buy whatever she
thinks best."

Probably because her words made some of the intruders ashamed a few
turned to leave; more lingered, among these the hucksters, and Dorothy
got angry. Folding her arms and firmly standing in her place she
glared upon them till one by one they slipped away over the gang-plank
and contented themselves with viewing the Water Lily and its Pad from
that point.

As the last smock-clad farmer disappeared Dorothy dropped upon the
floor and laughed.

"O Mrs. Bruce! Wasn't that funny? Those great big men and I--a little
girl! They mustn't do it again. They shall not!"

"The best way to stop them is to do as you promised--step to the shore
and see them there. Those potatoes were real nice. We might get some
of them, but the chickens--it would take so many. Might get one for
Mrs. Calvert's breakfast--oatmeal will do for the rest of us."

Dorothy sprang up and hurried with her friend off from the Lily. But
she made a wry face at the mention of oatmeal-breakfasts and
explained:

"Aunt Betty wouldn't eat chicken if none of the others had it. And
just oatmeal--I hate oatmeal! It hasn't a bit of expression and I'm as
hungry after it as before. Just do get enough of those 'br'ilers' for
all. Please, Mrs. Bruce! There's nobody in the world can broil a
chicken as you do! I remember! I've eaten them at your house before I
ever left Baltimore!"

Naturally, the matron was flattered. She wasn't herself averse to