ater ascended the stairs. Like
the rest of Lovell's Harbor she was busy as a bee in clovertime. She
had rented all her rooms and had so many things to do in preparation
for her expected guests that she had not a second to waste.

After she had gone Walter loitered in the kitchen, whistling absently
and at the same time winding a piece of string aimlessly over his
fingers. His mother's words had stirred a vague, uncomfortable
possibility in his mind. What if he were to fail in those final exams?
It would be terrible. Such a disaster did not seem real. It couldn't
happen--actually happen--to him. It would be too awful. Nevertheless,
try as he would to banish them, visions of Surfside with its myriad
fascinations would dance in his head.

He had never been away from home for more than a night before and to
take up residence elsewhere for an entire season was in itself a
novelty. Then there were the tennis courts, the golf links, the
automobiles, motor boats, and the yacht! Why, it would be like
fairyland! The next instant, however, his spirits drooped. It was
absurd to imagine for a moment that he was to have any part in those
magic amusements. He was not going to Surfside for recreation but for
work. Notwithstanding that fact, though, it was beyond his power to
forget that all these many activities would be going on about him and
there was the chance, the bare chance, that an occasion might arise
when he would be invited to participate in some of them.

Fancy spinning over the sandy roads of the Cape in that wonderful
racing car! Or sailing the blue waters of the harbor in one of those
snowy motor boats! As for the yacht, with its trimmings of glistening
brass and spotless decks, had he not dreamed of going aboard it ever
since the day it had first steamed into the bay two summers ago?
People said there was every imaginable contrivance aboard: ice-making
machines, electric lights, and electric piano, goodness only knew
what! Simply to see such things would be wonderful. And if it ever
should come about (of course it never would and it was absurd to
picture it--ridiculous) but if it ever _did_ that he should go sailing
out of the bay on that mystic craft what a miracle that would be!

With such visions floating through his mind what marvel that it was
well-nigh out of the question for Walter King to focus his attention
on algebra, Latin, history, and physics. X + Y seemed of very little
consequence, and as for the Puni