A few things had been added: a hennery,--called by Dotty "a henpeckery"-- and a graceful white boat, named the Water-Kelpie.

This boat was kept chained to a stake on the bank, and no one could have a sail in it without first obtaining the key, which hung over the bird-cage, in the back parlor.
Susy was charmed with the boat.

It was lighter and nicer than the old canoe, which had so long been used by the family.

She and Lonnie Adams, her aunt Martha's nephew, took daily lessons in rowing; but Susy, who had for years been accustomed to the water, knew how to manage a boat far better than did Master Lonnie.

The boy strained every nerve, to very little purpose, while Susy would lightly dip in the paddle, and turn it with perfect ease.
"I don't care," said Lonnie; "guess you can't drive a nail any better than I can, Susy Parlin, and I can row her some, anyhow.