Shortly after three that afternoon, Laurie, perched on a counter in the Widow Deane's shop, had the floor. That sounds peculiar, I acknowledge, but you know what I mean. They were in the shop because Mrs. Deane and Miss Comfort were occupying the back—pardon me, the garden. "It's like this," Laurie was telling Polly, Mae, Ned, and Bob. "We couldn't find a place on land for Miss Comfort, and so it occurred to me that a place on the water might do." He paused to enjoy the effect of this strange announcement.
"On the water!" echoed Polly. "Why, whatever do you mean?"
"Yes," cried Mae, "whatever—"
"Don't you get it?" asked Ned. "He wants Miss Comfort to join the navy!"
Laurie grinned. "Shut up, you idiot! You know the Pequot Queen?" They all agreed silently that they did. "Well, I've been all over the boat this morning. It would take about two or three days—and a few dollars, of course—to make her into just as nice a house as any one would want. Take that cabin—"
"But, look here, you three-ply goop," inter-
