ays the whole business was a little
misty, at best. If Jarley did all Lavine said, he merely was guilty of
being false to his friend and partner. It is doubtful if he made much
out of it. But Lavine talked loudly and long; he had lots of friends
even then. The talk and all fairly hounded the Jarleys out of town.

"And now," said Wyn, warmly, "the Lavines are rich and the Jarleys have
always been poor. Mr. Jarley is an exile from his old home and such
friends as he had in Denton. It is really a shame, I think--and you'll
say so, too, when you see what a splendid girl Polly is."

The two girls had followed the edge of the lake toward the landing,
instead of taking the path through the wood. Suddenly they came in sight
of the float and shack, with the several boats in Mr. Jarley's keeping.

Back from the shore was a tiny cottage, painted red, its window sash and
door striped with yellow. It was a gay little cot, and everything about
it was as neat and as gaily painted as a Dutch picture.

As Wyn and Frank came down the hill they saw Polly Jarley run out of the
house and down to the landing. Her father was busy there at an
overturned boat--evidently caulking the seams.

The boatman's girl did not see her visitors coming; but Wyn and Frank
got a good view of her, and the latter exclaimed to Wyn:

"Why! she's as pretty as a picture! She's handsome! If she only had on
nice clothes she would be a perfect beauty."

"Wouldn't she?" returned Wyn, happily. "I think my Polly Jolly is just
the _dearest_ looking creature. Isn't she brown? And what pretty
feet and hands she has!"

Polly wore a very short skirt, patched and stained. Her blouse was open
at the throat, so that the soft roundness of the curve of her shoulder
was plainly visible.

Out of the open neck of the blouse her deeply tanned throat rose like a
bronze column; the roses in her cheeks and on her lips relieved the
sun-darkened skin. Her hair was in two great plaits and it was evident
that she seldom troubled about a hat. She was lithe, graceful as she
could be, and bubbling over with good health if not good spirits.

And this was a morning--after the rain--to make even a lachrymose person
lively. The smell of all growing things was in the nostrils--the warmth
of the sun lapped one about like a mantle--it was a beautiful, beautiful
day,--one to be remembered.

Wyn shouted and started running down the hill. Polly heard her, turned
to see who it might be who ca