Soon after passing the Navy Yard, the car reached the shore of the Piscataqua, where they crossed the ferry to Portsmouth. Soon they were on the little steamboat, bound for the famous Isles of Shoals.
"There's one thing that I do remember," said Peggy. "There are nine of these islands and they are nine miles out at sea, and they are partly in Maine and partly in New Hampshire; but please don't ask me another word, Martine Stratford, for I can see by your expression that you're thirsting for information."
Martine reddened at Peggy's words, because Herbert Brownville, who was standing beside her, was known to have a special dislike for bookish girls. Martine was ashamed of herself for giving even a thought to Herbert's opinion, and in consequence, she reddened more deeply when Herbert asked in surprise, "Have you really come out only for information, Miss Martine, as Peggy told me on the car?"
This question decided Martine; she did not care for Herbert's opinion; she would show him so plainly, and so she decided to mystify him.
"Yes," she replied politely. "You know I have travelled a great deal, and some time I intend to write a book describing my travels. So wherever I go, it is necessary for me to get all the facts I can. Somehow I forgot to bring my notebook to-day, but perhaps you can lend me a pencil and paper."
Poor Herbert looked at Martine in surprise. Was this the girl who was famous for her wit, who was one of the best dancers and riders in their set two or three years ago? How sad that she should have changed so; but it was all on account of Boston; no girl could live in Boston a year without becoming affected. But what a pity that a pretty girl like Martine should turn into a bookworm! Nevertheless, Herbert handed Martine the desired pencil and paper, and he sat beside her while she made a great show of writing down the few facts that she had gathered from the volatile Peggy.
"I'm so glad," continued Martine, "that you are willing to help me; and when we reach the islands I'm going to ask you to find some one who will tell me all about them."
"There can't be much to tell," replied poor Herbert; "you know they are small and rugged and very queer. I've been there many a time on a yacht and I'm perfectly sure from what I've seen that they haven't any history."