"Oh, well, my time would be up in a few days more," went on the young bank employé. "It's just as well to start back now."
Tom took the shortest route he knew, keeping in as close to shore as he dared, for now he was as anxious to get home as was his father. On and on speeded the Arrow, yet fast as it was, it seemed slow to Mr. Swift, who, like all nervous persons, always wanted to go wherever he desired to go instantly.
Tom headed his boat around a little point of land, and was urging the engine to the top notch of speed, for now he was on a clear course, with no danger from shoals or hidden rocks, when he saw, darting out from shore, a tiny craft which somehow seemed familiar to him. He recognized a peculiar put-putter of the motor.
"That's the Dot," he remarked in a low voice to Ned, "Miss Nestor's cousin's boat."
"Is she in it now?" asked Ned.
"Yes," answered Tom quickly.
"You've got good eyesight," remarked Ned dryly, "to tell a girl at that distance. It looks to me like a boy."
"No, it's Mary—I mean Miss Nestor," the youth quickly corrected himself, and a close observer would have noticed that he blushed a bit under his coat of tan.
