"Jane's cracked about the model, isn't she?" Mark said now, reflectively.
"I should say!" Alan agreed. "She's on the lookout for it everywhere she goes. Were you there when she came streaming in the other day, half exploding because she'd seen some old model through the window of Cap'n Ben Lockhart's house?"
"No," his brother replied.
"Well, she did," Alan went on, "and didn't dare to go in, and spent an hour snooping around to various windows till she could see the stern, and it turned out to be the Penelope or something."
"I'm just as keen as she is to find it," Mark said.
"Naturally," Alan returned; "so am I. But we don't go around like lunatics because of it."
"She doesn't go around like a lunatic!" Mark cried, suddenly defiant. "She always was a queerish kid. Suppose you had some girl for a sister that was always fiddling around with hair-ribbons and boxes of candy and things."
"Oh, well!" Alan argued, "she wouldn't be
