girls on their crabbing game they had not noticed the
other craft drifting about them. Suddenly Grace pulled so hard at
Cleo's sleeve she almost lost a catch in the attempt.

"Look!" begged Grace. "Over in that boat! Wise Willie, the boy with the
book."

They all paused to observe the graceful green bark, in which was seated
the boy with the book, as Grace described him. And as usual the book was
very much in evidence.

In fact, his oars lay in their locks, and he was drifting aimlessly as
if the river were his, instead of the earth, according to Monte Cristo.

"Let's give him a scare and see if he is alive," suggested Cleo.

"Suppose we row up to him and ask him if he knows where the Weasle
lives," proposed Grace.

"Oh, please don't," implored Julia, who showed signs of nervousness.
"Why should we disturb him--he's only reading?"

"Oh, you like Wise Willie," teased Margaret. "Here's a flower from my
belt, toss it to him, Julia."

But in spite of their joking the boy in the boat, all unconscious of the
attention he was the center of, merely drifted on, until first one oar,
then the other slipped out of the boat, and floated down the river.

"I believe he _is_ unconscious," Grace continued to joke. "Now, of
course, we have to rescue his oars."

"Why?" asked Julia innocently.

"Or tow him in, if you would rather, Jule," suggested Louise. "Don't you
realize we are bound by traffic laws to assist a stranded boatman?"

"But he isn't stranded, and he doesn't need help," replied Julia with a
show of something like temper. "Why should we speak to a strange boy?"
she demanded.

"And why shouldn't we?" fired back Cleo. "If he isn't stranded it is
because he hasn't struck the strand yet; just watch him."

They dropped their nets and watched the boy, who, bent over his book,
drifted along without the least sign of regard for his situation.

Meanwhile the oars had drifted farther and farther away. A passing motor
boat swelled the tide to a current and this washed them almost out of
sight of the watchers.

"Being a boy we hesitate to hail him," said Louise. "Now, if that were a
girl----"

"Oh, if it were," interrupted Julia, with a meaning tone.

"All the same the poor boy may be late for dinner," said Grace
foolishly. "Let's hail him!" and she cupped her hands to her lips.

"Please don't," begged Julia. This objection brought forth a perfect
volley of cynicism.

Finally, Cleo took up one oar, and Margaret th