"Why, don't you see?" said Frank. "I've been trying to make a yacht
out of her."

"How does she sail?" inquired George.

"I don't know. I have just finished her, and have not had time to try
her sailing qualities yet."

"I don't believe she will sail worth a row of pins," said Harry,
confidently, as he drew the skiff alongside the Speedwell, and climbed
over into her. "But I'll tell you what it is," he continued, peeping
into the lockers and examining the rigging, "you must have had plenty
of hard work to do in fixing her over. You have really made a nice
boat out of her."

"Yes, I call it a first-rate job," said George. "Did you make the
sails yourself, Frank?"

"Yes," answered Frank. "I did all the work on her. She ought to be a
good sailer, after all the trouble I've had. How would you like to
spend an hour with me on the river to-morrow? You will then have an
opportunity to judge for yourself."

The boys readily agreed to this proposal, and, after a few moments'
more conversation, they got into their skiff and pulled down the
creek. The next morning, about four o'clock, Frank awoke, and he had
hardly opened his eyes before he was out on the floor and dressing. He
always rose at this hour, both summer and winter; and he had been so
long in the habit of it, that it had become a kind of second nature