Publisher's Synopsis
"Boys, what do you say to a trip in the Dartaway this afternoon?" "Suits me, Sam," replied Tom Rover. "Providing the breeze doesn't get too strong," returned Dick Rover, as he put up his hand to feel the air. "Oh, I don't think it will blow too much," went on Sam Rover. "I don't mind some air." "But no more storms for me!" cried his brother Tom, with a shake of his head. "That last old corker was enough for me." "Where shall we go?" questioned Dick, with a queer little smile creeping around the corners of his mouth. "Oh, my, just to hear Dick!" cried Tom, with a grin. "As if he would go anywhere but to Hope Seminary, to call on Dora!" "And as if you would go anywhere but to call on Nellie, at the same place!" retorted the oldest Rover boy. "Now, children, children'" came sweetly from Sam. "You mustn't quarrel about the dear girls. I know both of you are as much gone as can be. But--" "And how about Grace, Sam?" said Tom. "Didn't I hear you making up some poetry about her yesterday, 'Those limpid eyes and pearly ears, and'--" "Rats, Tom! I don't make up poetry-I leave that to Songbird," interrupted the youngest Rover boy. "Just the same, it will be nice to call on the girls. They'll be looking for us some day this week."
