ickles Jack had despised, the girls
settled down, and at last had time to admire the place they had
selected for their Summer stay.

A woman had been engaged to open the bungalow for them, and she had
provided most of the necessaries of life, aside from those the girls
brought with them. Cora and her chums had been satisfied to have her
attend to everything from buying food to providing an oil stove on
which to cook it.

There were a number of conveniences at Crystal Bay. Stores were not
out of reach, and supplies could be procured with little trouble. A
trip across the bay brought one to the shores of a real village, with
school house, post-office and other accessories of civilization. A
trip down the bay opened into eel pots in August, bluefishing in
September and deep sea fishing later on, when the Summer colonists had
departed.

Very early in the morning after the arrival of the motor girls at
Crystal Bay, house, tent and bungalow were deserted--it was all a
matter of motor boat. Moored to the brand new dock, at Tangle Turn, a
brand new motor craft heaved with the incoming waves and tugged at its
ropes whenever a sufficiently strong motion of the water gave it
excuse to attempt an escape.

This was the _Chelton_, the "up-to-datest" little-big motor boat
possible to own or acquire, according to the verdict of the young men
from Chelton who had just now passed judgment, and the wise decision
of Cora and her girl friends who had actually bought the boat, after
having taken a post-graduate course in catalogs and hardware
periodicals, to say nothing of the countless interviews they had found
it necessary to hold with salesmen and yacht agents.

They were all there, even Freda, who declared she ought to be busy
with other matters, but that the call of the colony was too strong for
her that one morning, at least.

"Of course we know how to run her," insisted Cora to Ed, the latter
having expressed doubt as to the girls' ability to manage so important
a craft. "Didn't we run the _Pet_?"

"Oh, yes, but this--this is a deep-sea boat," Ed explained, "and you
might run yourselves away to other shores."

"And land on a desert island? What sport!" exclaimed Lottie, to whom
motor boating was an entirely new experience. "I hope we make it
Holland. I have always longed to see a real, live Holland boy. The
kind who are all clothes and wooden shoes."

"We might make one up for you," suggested Belle. "I think Wallie would