"There's Tim Roon! Wave to him, Bobby," cried Meg.
"Doesn't Marion Green look funny before she knows you?" commentedDot.
The car with Mother and Father Blossom and the four little Blossoms and their suitcases and rugs and shawls and long and short coats, had whirled past Marion Green so rapidly that she had not guessed who the people were until they were almost around the corner, though she waved to them in answer to their call.
For the time at last had come to start for Apple Tree Island, and this morning the Blossoms were actually on their way. Norah's sister had come to stay with her and Annabel Lee, so Mother Blossom had been spared the work and trouble of closing the house. Meg and Bobby had been promised that they could go into a higher grade in the fall, because of their good records for the term. Dot's new dresses were all finished; and Twaddles had wheedled his father into allowing him to take along an empty bird-cage which took up a great deal of room and was utterly useless. The Blossoms had no bird, and, as Bobby pointed out to Twaddles, he would not be able to catch a bird if he tried, and if he did catch one, said Bobby, it would be against the law for him to keep it. He would have to let it go as he had the robin. But Twaddles was firm in his resolve to carry the empty cage.
"Miss Florence's canary bird died," he explained to Father Blossom. "And it makes her cry to see the cage; so she gave it to me. I think it is very nice and you never can tell when it will be useful!"
It was over seventy miles to Apple Tree Island from Oak Hill,quite too long a trip for the children to make without a break.This was partly the reason Father Blossom planned to stop atBrookside Farm. The real reason, of course, was Aunt Polly.
"When do we go on the boat?" asked Dot, soon after they had left Oak Hill and were running smoothly along the State highway which the interurban trolley line followed for some distance. Dot remembered the trip on the boat to Aunt Polly's, and she had reason to, as you will recall if you have read of that memorable visit.
"We don't go on the boat," answered Mother Blossom. "We go as far as Little Havre, at the lower end of Lake Tobago, where we took the boat, and then we branch off and follow the lake shore road that brings us straight to Brookside Farm and Aunt Polly."
"I dropped my cage," announced Twaddles conversationally.
Of course there was nothing to do but stop the car and let him get out and run back for it. Father Blossom was a skillful driver now and there was no danger that the steering wheel would play him strange tricks.
Presently it was lunch time, and as Father and Mother Blossom had foreseen that traveling in the balmy Spring air and sunshine might sharpen appetites, they had arranged to have a picnic under the largest and shadiest tree that could be found. How glad the four little Blossoms were to get out of the car and run about on the grass, and how good Norah's sandwiches did taste! There was milk for the children, and coffee for Father and Mother, and after the meal was finished, Father Blossom showed the children how to bury the papers and waste so that the pretty meadow spot might not be spoiled for the next picnic party.
"Where are we going to have supper?" speculated Dot, as she snuggled into the car beside Mother Blossom. Dot was a great girl to consider the future.
"Can't you guess?" teased Mother Blossom.
"I know!" cried Meg. "Aunt Polly's."
Dot and Twaddles enjoyed a little nap that sunny afternoon, butMeg and Bobby were wide awake every instant. When they came toLittle Havre the twins awoke and sat up, a bit heavy-eyed, butinclined to be resentful that they had missed anything at all.
"There's the wharf!" shouted Twaddles. "'Member the organ-grinder man, Dot? And there's the restaurant where you spilled the milk on your dress."
"I want to get a few directions," said Father Blossom, running the car close to the curb under a drooping willow tree. "Don't get out, any one, for I'll be right back."
He disappeared into the real-estate office on the corner, and the four little Blossoms amused themselves by watching the people hurrying down to make the afternoon boat.
"We'll beat them, won't we, Mother?" asked Meg. "And this timeAunt Polly won't have to come to meet us."
Father Blossom came hurrying back and climbed into his seat.
"I'm glad I asked," he told Mother Blossom. "They're repairing a stretch of the lake shore road and we'll have to make a short detour. It won't add more than half an hour to our running time."
They moved forward slowly, for the narrow streets of the little town observed no traffic rules, and boat passengers, baby carriages, horses, jitneys and automobiles had to find their way about as best they could, and then, when they reached the open road, Father Blossom allowed his car to gather more speed.
"Isn't the lake pretty!" said Meg, as they rounded a curve and saw the water shining through the screen of trees. "What do you suppose they are doing in that funny boat?"
"Fishing, aren't they, Daddy?" Bobby asked. "I hope I can go fishing. Palmer Davis went with his father twice last year."
"I'll take you," Father Blossom promised.
"There's a man walking," Dot announced suddenly.
Before any one could stop him, Twaddles had mounted his seat, his precious cage under his arm.
"Where?" he demanded.
Then he lost his balance and the cage shot over the side of the car.
"Oh, dear," sighed Twaddles. "I didn't mean to drop it, Daddy.Honestly, it slipped."
Father Blossom looked rather grim, for his patience with the useless cage was sorely tried.
"I'll get it," shouted the solitary walker, who had turned on hearing the car and now ran back toward the Blossoms.
He was a pleasant-faced man, rather shabbily dressed, with a soft felt hat pulled well down over honest gray eyes. He handed the cage up to Twaddles smiling and revealing a set of square, even white teeth. Father Blossom started as the light fell clearly across the man's face.
"Dick Harley!" he ejaculated. "Where did you drop from?"
The man pushed his hat back and his smile changed to a slow, sheepish grin. His hair was quite gray at the temples and Meg privately decided that he must be old.
"Well, well, Mr. Blossom!" he exclaimed, plainly pleased. "You're the last person I ever expected to meet right here. This your family?"
"Get in, if you're going our way," said Father Blossom cordially."Margaret, you remember Dick Harley?"
Mother Blossom held out her hand.
"Of course I do, though it has been several years since we've seen each other," she said pleasantly. "Oh, there's plenty of room, Mr. Harley. You sit with Mr. Blossom and I'll take Dot on my lap."
Dot was passed over the back seat, and Mr. Harley sat in the front seat with Twaddles between him and Father Blossom.
"This your family?" he repeated. "Which is the little feller I used to hold in my lap?"
"That was Bobby," smiled Mother Blossom. "He's seven years old now. This is Meg, and the two youngsters are our twins, Twaddles and Dot. We're going to Apple Tree Island. I have never been back since—"
She stopped, afraid that perhaps she had recalled painful memories to Mr. Harley. But his attractive smile slowly overspread his face again.
"That so?" he said with interest. "I haven't been there myself in quite a spell. I expect the boys have grown out of sight. I'm on my way now to see the wife and kids."
The Blossom family remained perfectly silent. What could they say?
"Yes," repeated Mr. Harley comfortably. "I don't suppose the boys will know me. Dick must be ten now, and Herbert's a year older. I calculate to stay over to-night with Joe Gates and his wife in Pomona (that's why you folks overtook me walking along this road) and he'll row me up to the island."
The four little Blossoms wriggled uneasily. Even Dot and Twaddles, young as they were, could guess something of what Mr. Harley's sorrow would be when he learned that no wife and children waited for his coming on pretty Apple Tree Island. Meg glanced at Mother Blossom. That lady shook her head slightly, as a signal not to speak.
"Isn't that a sign of spring water for sale?" said Father Blossom suddenly. "Hand me the vacuum bottles, Margaret, please, and I'll have them filled. The children may be thirsty again before we get to Polly's. Dick, will you help me? We've a bottle for each youngster and they're slippery things to handle."
Father Blossom stopped the car on the other side of the road from a pretty cottage where a sign on the gate offered "Guaranteed, Analyzed Spring Water for Sale," and he and Mr. Harley disappeared with the bottles through the odd, rustic gate.
"Now he'll tell the poor man," sighed Mother Blossom. "Whatever they do or say when they come back, children, I don't want you to say a word unless you're spoken to. Can you remember?"
"Yes'm," promised the four little Blossoms, four little hearts warm with sympathy for poor Mr. Harley.
"Where do you suppose he was all the time he wasn't there?" whispered Meg.
"I don't know," answered her mother. "He may have been ill. He may not even know how long it has been since he has been home. Anyway, darlings, the kindest thing we can do is not to bother him with talk or questions."
Father Blossom and Mr. Harley were gone for what seemed a long time to the children, but in reality was not more than twenty minutes. The four little Blossoms saw them coming, Father Blossom in the lead. Such a change had come over Mr. Harley! His shoulders sagged, he scuffed his feet and his eyes were heavy and dull.
"I suppose you know?" he said wearily to Mother Blossom, as he climbed into the car and Father Blossom took the wheel. "If I only knew where she went! But she quarreled with her people when she married me, and I never rightly knew where they lived, or who they were."
"You'll probably find her," Mrs. Blossom tried thus to encourage him. "It isn't easy for a woman with two children to drop out of sight, you know. Some one will be able to give you a clue."
Mr. Harley shook his head despondently.
"It's been two years, your husband tells me," he replied. "And I've been missing for four. Like as not she doesn't want to see me. I was out o' my mind for three years, Ma'am, and when I came to I was in a hospital on the California coast. It took me a year to work my way East. I kept writing and writing and wondering why Lou didn't send me a line. She was never one to bear a grudge."
"But what will you do?" asked Mrs. Blossom, her kind eyes filling with tears as she pictured the ruined little shack on the island. "Don't go back there and try to live, Mr. Harley—it will only make you ill again. You know Mrs. Harley isn't there, and I can not bear to think of you there alone."
"I'll stay to-night in Pomona," said Mr. Harley slowly. "Then I'll go on to Sunset Lake and put up a while with Chris Smith; he owns a boathouse and I can earn my keep taking folks about the lake. I'll be on the spot then if she should come back or if any one comes with news of her. And if your sister knows where she went—"
"We'll ask her to-night and tell you as soon as we reach SunsetLake," promised Mother Blossom heartily.
The rest of the drive was accomplished almost in silence, Mr. Harley busy with his own brooding thoughts and the Blossoms anxious not to annoy him. When they reached the town of Pomona, they left him at the post-office, where he said Joe Gates was always to be found. Another five miles brought the Blossoms to Brookside Farm.
"There's Foots!" shouted Twaddles, standing up on the seat and waving to Aunt Polly, who came flying down the drive.
"And Linda!" cried Meg.
"And Jud! And Peter Apgar!" shrieked Bobby.
"My darling lambs!" babbled Aunt Polly, almost beside herself with pleasure. "I never was so glad to see any one in all my life! Margaret, you look positively beautiful! Ralph, Jud will show you where to drive the car in. Oh, isn't this the nicest thing that ever happened to us, Linda?"
Linda smiled happily and nodded. She had grown taller since the four little Blossoms had seen her and she wore her hair pinned up in a pretty knot on top of her head.
Still laughing and talking, Aunt Polly marshaled her guests into the house. The twins were so sleepy from the long ride that they could hardly keep their eyes open, but they insisted on coming to the supper table. Linda and Aunt Polly had spent hours over that supper, and Father Blossom declared that he would drive fifty miles any day to get a slice of Linda's homemade bread.
"Mother," whispered Meg, pulling her mother's sleeve half-way through the meal, "Dot's crying!"
Sure enough, Dot was crying, big, slow, salty tears running down her pink cheeks and dropping off into her bowl of rich milk and bread.
"Why darling!" said Mother Blossom in alarm. "Don't you feel well? Are you tired? Here, come sit in Mother's lap and tell her what the trouble is."
Dot put down her spoon and ran to her mother, who lifted her up. The little girl buried her face in Mother Blossom's frilly collar and began to sob.
"P-oor Mr. Harley!" she choked. "We're having such a nice time, and he can't find his two little boys! I kn-ow he'd like to eat supper wif 'em!"
Dot seldom used "baby talk" but to-night she was tired and excited.
"Bless the child, what is she talking about?" demanded Aunt Polly curiously. "And look at this battery of solemn round eyes! What ever ails these lambs, Margaret?"
Mother Blossom, holding Dot close, explained about Mr. Harley.
"Didn't his wife stop here, Polly?" she asked. "Can you recall whether she said where she was going? Just a word might give him something definite to work on."
Aunt Polly shook her head.
"I remember seeing her very well," she said. "She had the two boys with her and I wanted her to spend the night. But no, she insisted she must 'go to the city'. Then I suggested that she leave the boys with me until she found work, if that was what she wanted, and that, I think, frightened her. I couldn't coax her to stay for supper after that. I certainly am sorry for Mr. Harley. Tell him his wife spoke most kindly of him and evidently believed that he was not in his right mind when he left her and the children."
Twaddles being discovered asleep with a cake in one hand and a piece of bread and butter in the other, the four little Blossoms were swept away to hot baths and bed a few minutes after Aunt Polly finished. And the next thing they knew it was bright daylight and Jud was whistling on his way to the milking.
"I'm going, too!" Bobby hopped out of bed and began to dress hastily.
"So'm I!" Dot sat up and shook Meg. The troubles of Mr. Harley had fled with Dot's dreams and she was her usual merry self. "Come on, Meg, we haven't seen Carlotta yet."
Meg was ready to get up and Twaddles woke before Bobby had tied one shoe, so the four little Blossoms, helping each other, managed to be dressed and downstairs before Jud had started to milk.
"Well, if this doesn't seem like old times!" he exclaimed grinning at them as they entered the barn.
"Forgotten how to milk, Meg?" asked Peter Apgar, coming into the dairy barn from feeding the horses. "Want to try it this morning?"
"I don't think I've forgotten how," said Meg cautiously, "but I'd rather Jud milked, 'cause he can do it so much faster than I can; and then he can go round with us and see the things."
That little speech pleased Jud mightily and pleased Peter Apgar, too, because, you will remember, Peter was Jud's father.
"You go sight-seeing this minute, Jud," he ordered his tall son."Guess I can do the milking on a special morning like this."
So the four little Blossoms and Jud went to pay their respects to all the dear farm animals the children had known that first summer they spent on Brookside Farm. Carlotta, the calf given to Meg and Bobby, had grown to be a beautiful sleek cow and Meg privately decided she was prettier than any Aunt Polly owned. Jerry and Terry, the two farm horses, acted as though they remembered the small visitors; and as for Mrs. Sally Sweet, Aunt Polly's pet Jersey cow, she came right up to the bars and fairly begged to have her nose stroked.
"Mother will want to see you," said Jud, when they had made the rounds of the barns and poultry yards.
Jud was "as nice as ever," Meg said, and the winter he had spent at an agricultural college had given him more confidence in his own ability. He was as determined as ever, the children found, to be a farmer and a good one.
At Mrs. Peter's neat front door they found Mr. Tom Sparks, a man who sold and bought cattle and who had given Carlotta to Meg and Bobby. He was surprised and delighted to see the four children again and said it was just his usual good luck that had made him drive in that morning; he was going off the next morning on a two weeks' trip to buy cows.
"I'd almost like to live here," confided Dot to Twaddles as they went in to breakfast.
Early the next morning Father Blossom brought the car around and, amid much hugging and kissing and a few tears, the good-bys were said. The Blossoms promised that if Aunt Polly and Linda and Jud did not get to see them while they were on Apple Tree Island, they would surely stop at Brookside Farm on their way home.
"I wonder how Mr. Harley feels now?" said Meg suddenly, when, the farm far behind, they were riding swiftly toward Sunset Lake. "I haven't thought about him all the time we were playing; have you, Dot?"
"No, I haven't," admitted Dot. "But I'm sorry for him, just the same. Do you suppose he has found Mrs. Harley?"
"I'm afraid not," answered Father Blossom.
"We will see him to-day, though, and give him what little news Aunt Polly could tell us of his wife. I am going to Greenpier, the little town where Chris Smith has his boats. I rather think Mr. Harley will bunk right there with him. Chris is a bachelor and will probably be glad to have some one live with him."
Sunset Lake was twenty miles from Aunt Polly's farm, and the Blossoms arrived there before noon. There was no trouble in finding Chris Smith's boathouse, for Greenpier was a very small, shabby town and the large sign "Boats for Hire" was easily the most conspicuous thing in the place.
"Howdy!" Mr. Harley greeted them, shuffling over the road from the wharf as Father Blossom honked the horn and brought the car to a stop. "I'm just back from a trip to the island. Did you see your sister, Ma'am?"
Mother Blossom told Mr. Harley all that Aunt Polly knew of Mrs. Harley and all that she had said. He merely nodded his head. Meg noticed that while he had been neatly dressed when they overtook him on the road he now wore no tie and in place of a collar a rather grimy red handkerchief was knotted around his throat.
"I told you there wouldn't be a bridge," whispered Twaddles to Dot. "Mother, all the way here Dot was arguing we went to the island on a bridge. We don't, do we?"
"I'm afraid you're so hungry you can't argue very pleasantly," returned Mother Blossom. "However, I want you to wait till we get to the bungalow and I'll have a nice, hot lunch for you, Daddy, what about leaving the car?"
"There's a garage down the street a piece," volunteered Mr. Harley. "Guess the car will be all right there; and the motor-boat's due any minute."
"Told you there wasn't any bridge!" snickered Twaddles in triumph.
"Stop teasing your sister," ordered Father Blossom. "Stay with Mother, children, till I run the car into the shop. Who runs the boat, Dick?"
"Man named Jenks," answered Mr. Harley. "It makes two trips a day during the season; goes to all the islands and carries the mail and fresh vegetables. Jenks will do errands in town for you, too, if you want anything. Very obliging. Never gets mad."
Mr. Harley spoke in short, jerky sentences that fascinated the listening children, Bobby especially.
"How many islands are there?" Meg wanted to know.
"'Bout eleven," said Mr. Harley. "Some little, some big. AppleTree Island? Oh, that's medium, I guess."
Father Blossom came back from putting up the car and took charge of the suitcases. Each of the four little Blossoms carried his own coat. Presently they heard the chug-chug-chug of a motor-boat.
"All aboard!" called a bluff, hearty voice, and a green and white boat shot up beside the wharf on which the Blossoms stood.
"These passengers are for Apple Tree Island," said Mr. Harley."Know whether their baggage's come yet?"
"Poled three trunks and six small boxes over on the raft yesterday afternoon," announced the motor-boat captain, who was also the crew. "Billed for the Winthrop bungalow—that right?"
"Right!" Father Blossom cheerfully assured him. "Now if you have room for us all, Captain—"
"Jenks, very much at your service," said the captain, with a flourish. "I suppose you'd like to go right over?"
"We should, if you can take us," said Mother Blossom. "The children are hungry and it must be after noon."
Captain Jenks assured her that he could take them to Apple Tree Island without stopping at any other port, and as soon as they were comfortably on board he started his engine.
"Chug-chug-chug!" coughed the little motorboat.
It wasn't so little, of course, when it could carry seven passengers. Indeed it had a neat little forward deck and a tiny cabin upholstered in red leather that would be very cozy in bad weather. Captain Jenks thought his boat was a beauty. Bobby thought so, too.
"Like boats?" the captain asked him, finding the little boy at his elbow.
"I don't know much about them," admitted Bobby. "Shall we have a boat like this? Daddy left the car in the garage."
"A car's no good on the water," said the captain loftily. "What you want is a seaworthy, tight little craft. You're going to live in the Winthrop bungalow, aren't you? Well, then, you'll have two rowboats."
"Then Dot and I can have one," Twaddles remarked with satisfaction.
Captain Jenks looked at him in some amazement.
"Wait till you try to lift an oar," was his comment. "Hey, little girl, you'll get grease on your dress."
"She has already," said Meg calmly. "She always does. Are you named for the Captain Jenks in the rime?"
"Captain-Jenks-of-the-horse-marines-he-fed-his-horse-good-pork- and-beans?" inquired the captain glibly and in one breath. "Well, no, I don't think I was—not that I remember. One of the fellers that was up here last year made me a piece of poetry about my name. Want to hear it?"
The four little Blossoms nodded eagerly.
"Here 'tis," said the captain. "Short and sweet:
"Captain Jenks has a motor-boat,He feeds it oil to make it float."
"What comes next?" demanded Dot.
"That's all," said the captain. "And here we are at Apple TreeIsland!"
"I hope you haven't been talked to death," Father Blossom said to Captain Jenks when he came to tell the children it was time to get off. "My wife and I were trying to see if we could recognize the places we knew seven years ago."
"Can't give me too many children," said the captain heartily. "Any time you don't know what to do with these youngsters, you have 'em on the wharf when I tie up; I'll take 'em on my rounds with me and bring them back safely."
There was a small wharf built out from a bank of green grass, and here the Blossoms landed, after bidding Captain Jenks a friendly good-by. They had been so busy talking to him, the children, that is, that they had never looked to see where the boat was taking them.
Apple Tree Island was only about half a mile from the shore, but perhaps a quarter of a mile further from Greenpier, where the stores and the post-office and the boathouse were built. A bend in the lake hid the island from the town. The ten or so other islands which Mr. Harley had mentioned were all further up the lake.
Mr. Harley had been mistaken in his estimation of the size of Apple Tree Island. It was in reality one of the smallest and, Father Blossom thought, less than two miles around its shoreline. It was diamond shaped, and the Winthrop bungalow was now the only building on it. Mr. Harley's shack no longer counted, and the summer home of the invalid for whom Father Blossom made yearly trips to the island, had burned to the ground during the winter. So the Blossoms would be the only people on the island this year.
"Just like Swiss Family Robinson!" exclaimed Meg rapturously."Look at the funny stumpy trees!"
"We'll take a walk this afternoon and explore," her mother promised. "Who is hungry enough to help me get lunch?"
They all were, it seemed, so they followed the worn path that led through a grassy field to the Winthrop bungalow. This house was so surrounded by trees that it could hardly be seen till one reached the front door, though from the porch glimpses of the lake could be had through the trees.
"What a perfectly darling house!" Meg exclaimed when she saw it.
Mr. Winthrop had built his house of gray fieldstone, and it was truly charming. There was a deep porch around three sides, a huge fireplace in the hall that also served as a living-room, and latticed windows in every room. Mrs. Winthrop had furnished the place in exquisite taste, and Mother Blossom declared that she could be happy all Summer if she never went out of the house.
She had found an apron in her bag and was busy scrambling eggs when she said that. Meg was setting the table in the kitchen, for one half of the room was designed to be used as the dining-room, and Dot and Twaddles were filling the salt cellars amiably. Father Blossom had lighted the oil stove, and Bobby was unpacking the plates. They had found all the things shipped from the Oak Hill home neatly stacked in the hall, ready to be opened.
"But you are going out of the house," said Father Blossom decidedly. "This isn't going to be the kind of vacation where every one has a good time except Mother. With five pairs of hands to help you, don't you think you can manage to go with us on tramps and picnics? And you used to like to row."
"I do yet," replied Mother Blossom. "Of course, if you all help me, I'll play when you play. But lunch is ready, children. Dot, what have you done to the front of that frock?"
"I shut it in the bathroom door," explained Dot. "It's only ripped a little."
She had torn it clear of the yoke so that it hung below her petticoat bodice, but every one was too excited and hungry to pay much attention to a torn frock.
After lunch, first washing the dishes, the Blossoms decided to try to walk around the island. Unpacking, said Mother Blossom, could be done as well in the morning.
It was a clear, cool day; indeed, the Blossoms soon found that it was rare when a breeze did not sweep steadily over Apple Tree Island. And, as Twaddles wrote to Norah, they "used blankets every night."
The Blossoms discovered that Apple Tree Island gained its name from the fact that at each of its four points grew a sturdy, flourishing apple tree. These were the only apple trees on the island, though there were a number of other kinds, the majority of them curiously shaped and stunted. There were rocks on one side of the island, but on the other the shore sloped down to the lake gradually and was covered with grass almost to the water's edge. There was a gravelly beach tucked away between two points, and Bobby immediately wished for his bathing suit. But he agreed to wait till morning for his first swim.
"Look at that funny heap of stones ahead," said Meg, as they rounded the point of the island farthest from the bungalow. "Look, you can see where the chimney was!"
"And there's a broken express wagon," added Dot. "Do you suppose a little boy used to live there?"
Father Blossom gave a low whistle of surprise.
"Children," he announced gravely, "that is where the Harleys used to live." Then to Mother Blossom: "It has fallen to pieces since I was up here last Summer. I think part of it was struck by lightning."
The Harley shack had never been a very fine building, but it had once been a home and, though the four little Blossoms were too small to realize it, it was the sight of the forlorn chimney and fireplace, the broken express wagon and the broken bits of furniture that made them feel sad.
"Why do I want to cry, Mother?" Meg kept asking. "What makes me sorry?"
"'Cause we don't know where Mrs. Harley went," asserted Twaddles wisely.
"That's it, darling," said Mother Blossom tenderly.
From the Harley shack, the Blossoms went down to the shore and, by using Father Blossom's field glasses, were able to see the two islands that lay to the north of Apple Tree Island and which, rumor said, were used by smugglers. But the children could not forget the Harleys, and as they continued their walk around the island they discussed the mysterious disappearance of Mrs. Harley and the children.
"I wish we could find 'em!" said Meg earnestly. "Wouldn't that be fine, Bobby?"
"Yes. But how can we?" replied the practical Bobby. "They aren't on the island, and we are. Perhaps they went to China."
"I'm so sorry for Mr. Harley," struck in Dot. "Do you remember his little boys, Bobby?"
Bobby wasn't sure.
"I don't think I do," he answered cautiously. "If one of 'em wore a blue sailor suit with a red tie and the other had long pants, then I do; I'll ask Mother."
"My dear little son!" exclaimed Mother Blossom, laughing when Bobby asked her if the Harley boys wore such clothes. "They were little fellows, about the size of Twaddles—how could one of them wear long trousers? And you were eight months old, just a little baby. You are thinking of some other boys you have seen."
Because Father Blossom had insisted that Mother Blossom was to enjoy a real vacation, there was very little unpacking to be done. The Winthrops had left their bungalow fully furnished, and though there was no one on the island to help with the housework, Mother Blossom declared that if they all helped her there would not be much to do. In a few days they felt very much at home and the children voted Apple Tree Island quite as delightful as Brookside Farm.
"Where you going, Dot?" Twaddles called one morning soon after they had arrived.
"I was going to look for you," said Dot importantly. "We're all going over on the ten o'clock boat—Captain Jenks' boat, you know. Mother has some letters to mail, and she wants us to take the wash over, that is if Captain Jenks knows any one in Greenpier who will wash and iron dresses. Meg and Bobby are down on the wharf with the basket now."
"Well, well, how are all my friends?" Captain Jenks greeted them when his boat came chugging up to the wharf and he saw a patient row of small people waiting to go on board. "Want to come now, or shall I stop on the return trip?"
"We'd like to sail back with you," aid Bobby. "Mother thought you didn't go any farther up."
"Special trip this morning," answered the captain. "Have to stop at the island north of Harley's shack to see if any one's violating game laws. I'm a little of everything 'round here—sheriff and warden and lake captain. You can come, and welcome."
"We have to take care of the twins," Bobby informed him as the four little Blossoms marched aboard over the gangplank Captain Jenks let down especially for them. "Meg and I are old enough to go to town but Dot and Twaddles are only four."
"What is in the basket?" asked the kind captain, fearing an explosion from Twaddles, who was furious at this public reference to his age.
"Oh, that's the wash!" said Bobby. "Mother wants to know if any one in Greenpier will wash and iron clothes?"
"Four of you going specially on that errand, I suppose," chuckled the captain, "and not one of you remembered what you were going for. Sure I know some one who will wash 'em and iron 'em up in great style and be glad of the job. Mrs. Clayton's her name. Here, Bobby, you don't have to get off—I'll catch that basket."
Captain Jenks took a long pole with a hook on one end of it that he used to hook fruit baskets and crates and bundles with, and neatly drew the clothes basket on board. Mother Blossom had tied the clothes in securely and put paper over the top, knowing, perhaps, that the basket was destined to have an adventurous journey.
"Are there smugglers on the island?" Bobby asked the captain, as the motor-boat churned up the water swiftly, and they left Apple Tree Island behind.
"Well, no, I wouldn't say that," replied the captain. "But we've had it reported that people living in Reville, that's a town up Sunset Lake almost opposite Kidd's Island where we're going, have seen fires on the beach at night. It's closed season now for the birds, and if any one is shooting 'em, we want to know it."
"Are you a policeman?" asked Twaddles in awe.
"Something like it," admitted the captain. "Leastways, I'm a deputy sheriff. Pretty place, isn't it?"
The boat was approaching the island, and it was indeed a pretty place. It was smaller than Apple Tree Island and had fewer trees, but it was completely covered with thick green grass brightly starred over with daisies. And not a single daisy grew on Apple Tree Island!
"Oh, oh, oh!" cried Meg softly. "How lovely! See, Dot, millions and millions of daisies."
"You can pick some while I take a look around," said Captain Jenks, fastening the boat with an iron chain and hook to a ring sunk in a wooden post. There was no wharf because no one lived on the island to build one and very few boats came there anyway.
Bobby and Twaddles stuck close to the captain's heels, but Meg and Dot determined to get some daisies to take home to their mother. They worked busily, and by the time the others were back from their inspection of the little open shed which was the only shelter on the island, the two girls had large bouquets.
"Were there any smugglers?" asked Dot half-fearfully.
"That's a silly story, that smuggler stuff," pronounced Captain Jenks. "To my mind a man who breaks the game laws is worse than a smuggler. We found the ashes of his campfire and this." He held up a pair of bird wings.
"The poor little bird!" exclaimed Meg compassionately. "How can any one shoot a bird!"
"It's all right sometimes, isn't it?" Bobby insisted. "Jud goes gunning, Meg, you know he does."
"I've nothing to say against it when the season is open," said the captain.
Captain Jenks seemed saddened by the discovery of the pretty, spotted wings, but when he had put them away in a little box in the cabin he cheered up and admired the daisies.
"You'll find string in that toolchest," he directed them. "Going to make two bunches? That's right—I don't like to see flowers crowded even after they're picked."
The two bunches were tied to the rail as a safe place and one in which they would not be easily crushed. The motor-boat—by the way, its name was The Sarah, painted in green letters; you haven't been told that before, have you?—was now chugging down the lake toward Greenpier, and Bobby and Meg were taking their first lesson in managing the wheel. Twaddles had found a compass in the toolchest and was having a wonderful time playing with that. Dot thought the time had come to put an idea of hers into practice.
"They look wilted," she told herself, eyeing the daisies with disfavor. "What they need is water."
So this mischievous child took a long string and tied it to each bunch of daisies; then she held it in the middle and allowed them to trail in the water.
The Sarah was almost at Greenpier before Meg glanced toward Dot and saw what she was doing.
"Dot Blossom!" she cried, rushing toward her. "You'll spoil 'em.Oh, Bobby, look what Dot's doing to the daisies!"
In her anxiety to get the daisies wet, Dot had climbed to the top of the rail, and when Meg shouted at her so suddenly she was startled. She tried to catch the rail, missed it, and tumbled into the water.
Dear, dear, there was a hubbub, you may be sure. Luckily the boat was in very shallow water and a man sitting on the wharf jumped in and had Dot in his arms almost as soon as she splashed. He was Mr. Harley and he easily walked ashore. The water was only as high as his waist.
"You're not drowned," he kept telling Dot, who was sadly frightened and crying bitterly. "You're only wet, Sister."
"Take her up to Mrs. Clayton's," ordered Captain Jenks. "We were headed for there, and she always has a big fire on account of the ironing. She'll know what to do."
Apparently Mr. Harley knew where Mrs. Clayton lived, for he strode away with Dot in his arms. Captain Jenks, Meg and Bobby and Twaddles had to run to keep up with him. He stopped before a whitewashed cottage with a woman ironing in the large front room.
"Can you dry this baby off and give her something hot to drink?" asked Captain Jenks, and Mrs. Clayton held out her arms for Dot.
The little girl was indignant at being called "baby" but her teeth were chattering from cold and fright, and the hot cocoa Mrs. Clayton presently gave her tasted very good. She went off to sleep after that, wrapped in a warm blanket, and woke to find her clothes dry and ironed.
Mrs. Clayton was a stout, comfortable, jolly kind of woman who did washing and ironing for the Summer people on the various islands and in the shore towns that bordered Sunset Lake. She promised to have Mother Blossom's clothes ready a week from that day, and the children trotted back to the boat, Dot none the worse for her experience. They knew no one at home would be worried, though Dot had slept two hours, because they were not expected back till the afternoon boat.
"We had cocoa and jelly sandwiches while you were asleep," Twaddles informed his sister. "And Mrs. Clayton has a ship carved out of a piece of bone!"
At the wharf they found Mr. Harley and Chris Smith, the boathouse man, and Captain Jenks, all very glad to see them and glad that Dot's ducking had not been worse. The captain had several other passengers to another island on this trip.
"I'll be over in a day or two," said Mr. Harley, as the children boarded The Sarah. "Might as well look around the place once in a while."
Father Blossom was waiting on their wharf when they reached Apple Tree Island, and his first question was whether they had found some one to do the washing to save Mother Blossom from attempting too much.
"Yes, and she's already started," cried Bobby eagerly. "She washed and ironed Dot!"
"Washed and ironed Dot!" repeated Father Blossom. "Why, what happened to Dot?"
The four little Blossoms explained, and then they had to tell the story again to Mother Blossom when they went up to the bungalow. Father and Mother Blossom were so glad and so grateful that the accident had turned out so fortunately, when it might easily have had serious consequences, that they scolded no one. Dot was sure that she would not climb up on the rail of The Sarah another time, and Father and Mother Blossom knew she would be careful.
Such fun as the children had in the days that followed! Mother Blossom declared that they almost lived in their bathing suits, and indeed, as the warm weather came on, a bathing suit for the sunny hours of the morning was the most comfortable costume any one could hope for. The little bathing beach was not too far from the bungalow, and Father Blossom was an excellent swimmer. He taught each child to swim and very cunning Twaddles and Dot looked in the water. Dot wore a scarlet bathing cap on her dark hair and her bathing suit was red, too, while Twaddles wore a navy and white suit. Meg's suit was a lighter blue and her cap was white, and Bobby had a brown suit like Father Blossom's. The children thought that no one could look lovelier than their mother in her black and white suit and cap to match, and indeed Mother Blossom was growing prettier every day. She said she had not had a real vacation in so long that she felt as the children did—as if she must play outdoors every minute.
Sometimes they took their supper down to the beach and Father Blossom and Bobby built a fire and they had toasted bread and bacon; sometimes they went hunting for beach plums, that odd fruit that grows on tall bushes and which make such delicious jam; sometimes they all went fishing in the two rowboats, Mother Blossom rowing one and Father Blossom the other.
"I caught the biggest fish," Dot wrote to Norah, "only it wasn't a fish—it was somebody's old boot."
But Twaddles and Meg, oddly enough, had the best luck of any of the fishermen. Meg rarely went fishing that she did not bring home a nice little string of fish she had caught herself (though Bobby had to bait her hooks), and as for Twaddles, he never paid much attention to his line except to pull it in now and then to take a fish off. One day the whim seized him to fish from the wharf, and when Bobby was sent to call him to supper Twaddles calmly showed him four fine fish he had caught in less than an hour.
"I'll take you on a fishing trip some day for a mascot," saidCaptain Jenks, who continued to be a very good friend.
The four little Blossoms had gone over with him on The Sarah the week after Dot's adventure in the water to get the wash from Mrs. Clayton. Bobby and Meg had been a little fearful that Mother Blossom would not trust them again to take care of the twins, but that dear lady knew that accidents make wise little folk more careful. She assured Bobby and Meg with a kiss that she was sure they would look after Dot and Twaddles more closely this time. They did; indeed, the twins rather resented the strict supervision under which they made the trip to Greenpier, but when Dot appealed to Captain Jenks, to her disappointment, he sided with Bobby and Meg.
"I have an uneasy feelin' that I don't know what you might take into your head to do next," the captain told the surprised little girl. "If I was your sister and brother, I'd tie a string to you and then I'd know where you were every minute."
However, of all their games and pastimes, the one of which the four little Blossoms never tired, was to go and play around the ruins of the Harley shack. The island was so safe a place, such an ideal playground for little people, that Father and Mother Blossom felt no uneasiness no matter where the children went. They must be home punctually to meals and they must not go in the water anywhere without asking permission and then only on the bathing beach if no older person was with them. These few rules were all they had to remember and it was small wonder that they often said Apple Tree Island was the nicest place in the world! Aunt Polly had sent Bobby a little watch and he could "tell time" nicely; so no matter how far they wandered they had no excuse for not coming back to the bungalow when Mother Blossom set them a time limit.
"Let's go to Mr. Harley's house," suggested Meg one bright morning.
That was the way they always spoke of the forlorn shack—it was"Mr. Harley's house."
"All right, let's," agreed Bobby. "I'll ask Mother if we can take our lunch. We don't want the twins this time, do we?"
Bobby and Meg had been washing the breakfast dishes while Mother Blossom, at the pretty desk in the large hall, was making out a grocery list for Father Blossom to take to town on the morning boat. Meg and Bobby were learning to be the best little helpers one ever saw; in fact, this Summer all the children had learned a great deal about housekeeping and they meant to astonish Norah with their knowledge when they went home.
"I think it would be nice if we could play by ourselves," said Meg gently, in answer to Bobby's question.
Meg and Bobby sometimes felt that they would like to play a game without the aid of Dot and Twaddles. Not that they did not love the small sister and brother dearly, but Meg and Bobby usually liked to do the very same thing in the very same way, and Dot and Twaddles were apt to want to do it six different ways and all at once! That, as you may understand, occasionally led to disputes.
"Take your lunch and play at Mr. Harley's house?" said Mother Blossom, laying down her pencil and smiling at the two earnest faces. "I don't know why not. I'll put some sandwiches up for you as soon as I finish this list."
"And may just Meg and I go, Mother?" added Bobby coaxingly.
"Oh, Bobby, you know the twins will be disappointed," Mother Blossom replied. "They do love to poke around that shack and I'm afraid they will feel hurt if they think you do not want them."
She tapped her pencil absently on the desk for a moment.
"I tell you, children," she cried, putting an arm around each. "Suppose you and Meg, Bobby, go on to the shack and play by yourselves this morning; then, at noon, I'll send the twins with lunch for all of you and you stay an hour or two longer and play with them. How will that be?"
Meg and Bobby thought this was a splendid plan, and, only stopping to kiss Mother Blossom and to take an old rusty shovel which was Bobby's chief treasure, they ran off. Dot and Twaddles were down at the wharf waiting to see Captain Jenks and his motor-boat, a daily habit which was encouraged by the captain, who usually brought them some little treat.
"We'll go around the other side of the island, and they won't see us," said Meg, the general. "It isn't much longer, really."
The other side of the island was rockier, though, and the bushes were thicker. Still, Meg and Bobby managed to scramble though, and half an hour's steady tramping brought them to the Harley shack.
"It keeps falling apart," mourned Meg; and indeed the place looked worse every time they visited it.
"Apples!" shouted Bobby, running forward to look under the gnarled trees. "Apples, Meg! Big ones!"
"They're not ripe," said Meg promptly. "'Sides, they're not ours—they belong to Mr. Harley. Daddy says everything here belongs to him."
"I guess they are green," admitted Bobby, who had tried in vain to soften one in his fingers. "But apples belong to anybody, Meg."
"They do not!" contradicted Meg. "Why, Bobby Blossom! how can you talk like that? Don't you remember when you and Twaddles were in the fruit store with Daddy last Spring and Twaddles took a strawberry from one of the boxes because he saw another boy do it? You know Daddy made him put it back before he could eat it. If strawberries don't belong to anybody, I guess apples don't."
Meg's honest blue eyes looked beseechingly at her brother.
"All right," surrendered Bobby. "I wasn't going to eat 'em, anyway."
"I hope not," said Meg severely. "What'll we play?"
"Hunting for treasure," responded Bobby. "That's why I brought the shovel. You want to pound first?"
Meg and Bobby had invented this game. They pretended that hundreds of years ago fierce pirates had buried chests of gold and jewels on this end of the island and that the Harley shack had been the castle home of these wicked sea rovers. The pirates had died without leaving directions to tell where they had buried the treasure, and gradually the castle had crumbled away.
Then, one day, there came two brave sailors (some people called them Meg and Bobby) and they set to work to dig up the great iron chests. They meant to divide the money and jewels with the descendants of those from whom the pirates had stolen it. And their method of locating the buried treasure was to go about with a shovel and tap here and there. Where the earth gave out a hollow sound, there they would dig. These two sailors had not yet found anything, but it was certainly an exciting game.
"Dig here, Bobby!" cried Meg, when she had rapped the earth around the crazy chimney and persuaded herself that it sounded "hollow."
So Bobby dug. And presently his shovel struck something.
"Oh, Bobby, what is it?" shrieked Meg. "Is it an iron chest?"
She really half-believed that Bobby had found the pirate's buried treasure.
The twins were scrambling over the rocks and they heard Meg's cry. Mother Blossom had kept them as long as she could, but they had insisted on setting out a half hour before noon and they had run most of the way, the lunch basket bumping wildly in time to their steps. Their faces red from the heat and streaming with perspiration, they burst into the ruins of the Harley house just as Bobby brushed the dirt from his find. "I don't know what it is," said Bobby, trying to look closely at the odd-shaped little thing in his hand, with three children insisting on seeing it at the same time. "Look out, Dot, you nearly made me drop it."
None of the children could guess what it was Bobby had found, and finally he slipped it into his pocket to take home and show Father Blossom. Then he discovered that he was hungry, and the twins proudly produced the basket.
"Have to wash first," announced Bobby firmly. "Did you bring a towel?"
Mother Blossom had sent a towel, and Bobby pulled up a brimming bucket of water from the Harley well and poured the old tin wash basin full. The well had been thoroughly cleaned out that Spring by the men whom the Winthrops sent up to put the bungalow in order. They had wisely decided that it was better to have all the water on the island fit to drink rather than to try to keep any one from using an abandoned well.
"You and Dot wash," commanded Bobby, when his face was washed and dried and his hands as neat as could be.
"I did wash my face 'fore breakfast," insisted Twaddles indignantly. He thought that should last him a long time.
Bobby, however, was equally insistent, and Dot and Twaddles had to bathe their hands and faces before he would let them share in the contents of the lunch basket. Mother Blossom was used to satisfying four good appetites, and the children ate every crumb she had sent them.
Then they went back to their game, and Twaddles and Dot tried their luck at locating buried treasure.
"Dig here, Bobby!" Twaddles cried. "This place sounds hollow, honest it does."
"You don't tell me!" said another voice, a man's voice. "Why do you suppose that is?"
Twaddles jumped, and Meg turned around, startled.
"Didn't scare you, did I?" said Mr. Harley, walking into the circle and smiling at the perplexed faces.
"We didn't hear you coming," answered Bobby. "Did you row over?"
"Yes, I came over to tell your mother that your father couldn't get back till the afternoon boat," Mr. Harley explained. "Your mother wanted to know if I'd come and fetch you."
"Does she want us?" asked Meg quickly. "Oh! What was that?"
"Thunder," answered Mr. Harley, shortly. "Your mother sent you two umbrellas, but I don't think we'd better start now; the storm is 'most ready to break. Guess you were having such a good time you never heard the rumbling."
It was true. The children had never glanced up, or they would have seen the great white clouds that, mounting higher and higher, gradually darkened and then shut out the sun. They would have heard the angry mutterings of thunder and seen the sharp streaks of lightning, but the game of hunting for treasure had completely absorbed them.
"It will rain on us," remarked Meg nervously. "There isn't any roof, you know."
Then she blushed. She wondered if Mr. Harley thought they were selfish to amuse themselves in his tumble-down home, and whether it was polite of her to mention that the roof was gone.
"We'll have to make a roof," said Mr. Harley capably. "Let's see; if we take that door and put it across these two barrels, that will keep the rain off. Here's a piece of oilcloth we can use for a curtain to shut the lightning out. Now we're as comfy as we would be in a regular house."
While he spoke, he had lifted what had once been the front door of his house, placed it across two barrels and draped across the open side a large square of oilcloth that was cracked and creased in many places but still waterproof. The barrels were against the one wall of the house left standing, so that, when all was fixed, the small shelter was fairly comfortable.
Bobby, feeling in his pocket for a nail to pin the oilcloth more securely, touched the queer object his shovel had unearthed that morning.
"Look what I found," he said eagerly, holding out the little pointed specimen.
"Arrow head," said Mr. Harley. "Indians once lived on this island, and you're likely to turn those things up most anywhere. Will your mother be afraid alone in the bungalow?"
"Mother's never afraid," declared Bobby confidently, putting the arrow head back in his pocket to show his father. "Oh, that lightning went right into the lake!"
"Better get in now," Mr. Harley told them, holding up the oilcloth so that they could creep in under the door-roof. "All in? Then here I come."
The rain was coming down in great, dashing torrents in another moment and the four little Blossoms were thankful for their dry corner.
"It's a good thing we didn't start out," shouted Mr. Harley above the noise of the rain. "We never could have made the bungalow before the rain caught us. This will knock the apples off. That's a pity because they're fine when they're left to ripen."
"Meg said they weren't ripe yet," said Bobby.
"I hope you didn't try to eat any," answered Mr. Harley earnestly."Green apples are not good for you."
"Oh, we didn't touch one," Bobby assured him, trying to punchTwaddles, who was tickling him. "Meg said they belonged to you."
"I want you children to eat 'em, but not till they are ripe," Mr. Harley shouted back. "Along about the first week in July, you come up here and you'll find the best sweet apples you ever tasted. That is, if the storms leave any on the tree, and I guess they will. You eat all you want—I never want to taste one of those apples again!"
Twaddles stopped trying to tickle Bobby, and Meg squeezed Dot's hand excitedly. Poor Mr. Harley!
"Then—then you haven't heard about your little boys?" asked Bobby hesitatingly.
"Not a word," groaned Mr. Harley. "It's as though the earth had opened and swallowed 'em. I can't, for the life of me, figure out where they could have gone. Sometimes I get to thinking they're here, and I can't rest till I get a boat and row over. One night I got up at one o'clock and rowed here; but Lou and the boys were just as far away as ever."
The rain was coming more gently now, and the heaviest clouds had passed over the island. Mr. Harley lifted the oilcloth flap, and the four little Blossoms felt a refreshing breeze sweep in upon them.
"We can start in a minute or so," announced Mr. Harley, opening the umbrellas.
A few minutes later they started in a fine drizzle of rain. That, however, soon stopped and the sun came out, and by the time they had reached the bungalow, to find Father Blossom just coming up from the wharf and Mother Blossom, not a bit frightened by the storm, on the porch, the only trace of the thunderstorm was the wet grass and the dripping eaves of the pretty bungalow.
May swept into June and June was nearly gone when one morning Father Blossom announced that he wanted to take Mother Blossom over to Greenpier in the rowboat and that he hoped the children could persuade her that they would be all right if left to themselves for a little while.
"I don't think we'll be gone more than two or three hours," said Father Blossom seriously; "and while I don't suppose this day means anything to you, it does mean a good deal to Mother and to me. And if you children will take care of each other, we'll be back before you have time to miss us."
"I know what day it is," Meg cried proudly. "It's the day you andMother were married!"
She remembered from the last June, and Mother Blossom had not thought any of the children would remember.
"I do hope they will be all right, Ralph," she said a little anxiously, as Father Blossom handed her into the rowboat and took the oars and the four little Blossoms stood on the wharf and waved to them.
"Of course they will be all right," Father Blossom asserted sturdily.
"Daddy, oh, Daddy!" called Bobby after the boat, "may we have your field glasses?"
"All right, only be careful of them," Father Blossom called back.
"What'll we do?" asked Dot, as they left the wharf and walked back to the bungalow.
"Go up to the Harley house and see if we can see the pirates' haunted ships," answered Bobby. "We can look 'way off with the glasses. Where 'bouts are they, Meg?"
"I know. I'll get 'em," said Meg eagerly.
She ran upstairs and found the glasses hanging on the wall in their leather case. They were a very fine pair, and the children were not often allowed to use them.
The "haunted ships" that Bobby spoke of, were another "pretend" the children enjoyed. Mother Blossom, reading to them one night, had found a poem that told how the ships of the pirates were condemned forever to sail the seas. The poem went on to say that sometimes people saw these ghostly ships and that when they did some of the buried treasure, part of the ill-gotten gains they had once carried on their decks, was sure to be unearthed.
"I can't see a single ship," reported Bobby, when, after the four children had walked to the north end of the island, he adjusted the glasses and took a long look.
"Let me try," begged Meg.
She stared so long that Twaddles grew impatient for his turn.
"Hurry up, Meg," he urged. "I want to see. Bobby, can't I have 'em now?"
"Don't bother me," said Meg impatiently. "I see something. Look,Bobby, isn't that something moving on Kidd's island?"
"Let me look, Meg. Why, it's somebody waving a rag tied on a pole."
Sure enough, it was. Neither Bobby nor Meg could make out what it was that held the pole, but it certainly was a pole with a bit of cloth dipping crazily about from one end of it.
"Isn't that funny?" puzzled Meg, staring at Bobby. "No one lives on Kidd's Island."
Dot's mind was full of pirates; and no wonder, for the four children had talked and played pirate games for weeks.
"I'll bet a pirate is there and he wants you to come so he can kidnap you," said Dot solemnly.
Twaddles was staring through the glasses, his "turn" having come at last.
"Maybe he's a sick pirate," he ventured.
"Meg," said Bobby suddenly, "I'll bet that's a signal for help; or if it isn't, some one ought to go to see what it is. It's almost time for Captain Jenks—let's run down to the wharf and tell him."
It lacked ten minutes of the time the captain's boat was due, and the four little Blossoms started pell-mell on a run for the wharf. Meg carried the glasses, remembering even in her hurry that they had promised to take care of them.
"Captain Jenks! Oh, Captain Jenks!" cried Bobby, hailing the skipper of The Sarah before it had even begun to turn toward the shore.
"Oh, Captain Jenks!" quavered Meg.
"Captain Jenks!" squeaked Dot. "Listen, Captain Jenks!"
"What do you suppose—" began Twaddles as The Sarah grated against the wharf and Captain Jenks surveyed the waving arms brandished before him.
"House afire?" asked the captain placidly.
"Oh, no!" sputtered Bobby, the words tumbling over each other."Nothing like that! But there's somebody on Kidd's Island!"
"There is?" said the captain sharply. "How do you know?"
Meg and Bobby and Dot and Twaddles insisted on all explaining at once, but somehow the captain succeeded in understanding what they were trying to tell him.
"Waving a rag, eh?" he said thoughtfully. "Well, I might take a little run up there, though I wasn't calculating to go so far north this morning.
"May we go? Please, may we go?" pleaded Bobby.
"Ask your mother—or no, give me the glasses, and I'll have a squint at this waving rag," answered the captain. "Maybe it won't be anything you'll want to see."
He took the glasses from Meg and strode off to the Harley shack, followed by the children, who were now almost beside themselves with excitement.
Captain Jenks took a long look toward Kidd's Island, then whistled.
"Well, I never!" he said softly, as though speaking to himself.
"What is it?" asked Bobby. "May we go?"
"I guess it will be all right, Son," replied the captain kindly."Run ask your mother, and if she is willing, I'll take you all."
"Mother isn't at home," explained Bobby. "She and Daddy rowed toGreenpier. She would say yes, I know she would."
"Well—all right!" decided Captain Jenks. "I'll take you to Kidd's Island and drop you here at the wharf on the way back. I think we're going to be what the papers call a rescuing party."
The four little Blossoms hurried on board The Sarah before the captain should change his mind. A rescue! Could anything be more exciting! As Twaddles remarked afterward, he wouldn't have missed coming to Apple Tree Island for anything in the world.
The captain took the wheel, and the boat chug-chugged swiftly toward Kidd's Island. When they were off shore they could see the rag quite plainly. It was a small handkerchief tied to an oar.
But no pirate was waving the forlorn little signal.
"Look, look!" cried Meg, as though afraid Captain Jenks might not see. "It's a girl and two little boys!"