"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.
Ned laughed, Tom blushed still more, and Mr. Swift, who was in a
stern seat, glanced up quickly.
"It looks as if that boat wanted to hail us," the inventor
remarked.
Tom was thinking the same thing, for, though he had changed his
course slightly since sighting the DOT, the little craft was put
over so as to meet him. Wondering what Miss Nestor could want,
but being only too willing to have a chat with her, the young
inventor shifted his helm. In a short time the two craft were
within hailing distance.
"How do you do?" called Miss Nestor, as she slowed down her motor.
"Don't you think I'm improving, Mr. Swift?"
"What's that? I--er--I beg your pardon, but I didn't catch
that," exclaimed the aged inventor quickly, coming out of a sort
of day-dream. "I beg your pardon." He thought she had addressed
him.
Miss Nestor blushed and looked questioningly at Tom.
"My father," he explained as he introduced his parent. Ned needed
none, having met Miss Nestor before.
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