"Now, Aunt Mary," cried the nephew, "hang on to me and hang on to those
ropes and remember I'm right back of you--"
"My Lord alive," cried Aunt Mary, turning her gaze upwards, "am I expected
to go alone all that way to the top?"
"It'll pay you to keep on to the top," screamed Clover; "you'll have,
comparatively speaking, very little fun if you hang on to the ladder all
day--and you'll get so wet too."
"There's more room at the top," cried Mitchell, "there's always room at
the top, Miss Watkins. Put yourself in the place of any young man entering
a profession and struggle bravely upwards, bearing ever in--"
"Oh, I never can," said Aunt Mary, recoiling abruptly; "I never could
climb trees when I was little--I never had no grip in my legs--and I just
know I can't. It's too high. An' it looks slippery. An' I don't want to,
anyhow."
"What rot!" yelled Jack, "the very idea! Why, Aunt Mary, you know you can
skin up there just like a cat if you only make up your mind to it. Here,
Mitchell, give her a boost and I'll plant her feet firmly. Now--have you
got hold of the ropes, Aunt Mary?"
"Oh, mercy--on--me!" wailed Aunt Mary, "the yacht is turnin' a-round an' the
harder I pull the faster it turns."
"Catch her from above, Burr," Clover called excitedly; "hook her with
anything if you can't reach her with your hand."
"Oh, my cap!" shrieked poor Aunt Mary, and the cap went off and she went
on up and was landed safe above.
"How on the chart do you suppose we'll ever unload her?" Jack asked,
wide-eyed, as he swung himself quickly after her.
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