He pulled
in to the landing, made fast his painter, and ran like a deer up to the
house. He was back in five minutes.
"Don't believe I'll go by boat, after all," he whispered to Jeff,
standing in the summer-house door. "It might be simpler not to have a
boat to bother with. I'll just leave the _Butterfly_ tied there, and put
her up when I get back."
He was off before Jeff could reply. Jeff started toward the boat to put
it up, but stopped, considering.
Lucy would think it that of her admirer, and would be all the more sure
to keep her appointment. He left it as it was, swinging lightly on the
water, six feet out. It was a habit of Just's to moor a boat at the
length of her painter, to prevent her bumping against the rough old
landing.
Lucy, coming swiftly down the path fifteen minutes later, saw the boat
and hastened her steps. She did not observe that this was a slimmer,
longer craft than the boat George Jarvis was using. She reached the
landing and looked about. Of course he was in the summer-house. She went
to it, her skirts, which she had of late been surreptitiously
lengthening, held daintily in her hand.
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