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They sat down inside the little boat house, on one of the benches, and managed to say a good deal in the short time allotted them. The men in the boat, young men, all of them, talked, joked and sang while they waited. Finally the officer spoke to Donald, who said a last goodbye to Betty and climbed into the boat. Betty felt a little self-conscious, but stood out on the dock, poised like a bird, as she waved to Donald. The sailor lads waved their caps as they pushed off, then bent to the task of rowing back to the ship. Their voices came back to her as they sang one of the old sailor chanteys, though these were mostly college boys, with little experience as yet except in rowing for the championship of their schools.

Betty walked slowly away, looking back and out at the boat and small steamer. “Is this I, or isn’t it?” she thought. “Did anybody ever have such unusual things happen? Here came Donald, out of the lake, so to speak. Presto, a lot of good-looking boys like him, and a friendly officer, appear from ‘the deep,’ serenade Donald and me and the girls, and row off again.”