“I think the linin’ of Miss Gordon’s cloud needs polishin’ these days,” ventured Betty, shyly.,
In his distress his wandering eye discovered a bunch of vine ties, short pieces of soft hemp rope for fastening vines to their supporting stakes. They were hanging against the rear of the coop, and a gust of wind had blown them into view. Like a flash he sprang and caught them; tied several together in quick, strong knots, and lashed himself to the little tree. Then he took up the board again, poised it at a perpendicular, calculated the angle, and slowly dropped it. Would the end reach the sill? No, it was too short!,
“Please,” answered the discomfited youth, “I aint never seen a ship of no kind.”.
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