It is hard to say who stared most at these words; the prisoners, or the three from Round Robin, or the fishermen. But they effectually closed the foul mouths of Smith and his partner. Not another word did they speak till they were landed in the lock-up of Old Harbor; a place seldom occupied in this God-fearing, law-abiding community, where it was the fashion to respect the comfort of one’s neighbors as well as of one’s self, in the true American way.
The boys returned to Round Robin with an exciting story and a tremendous bit of news. Indeed, Round Robin found the news more exciting even than the story of the capture—moonshiners and firebugs and all.
“Did you know who Anne was all the time, Tante?” asked Dick; and they all looked at her eagerly.
“Not at first,” said Tante. “Mr. Poole wrote me early in the summer. I suspected he was in trouble when he said I should have to tell Anne something unpleasant before long. Then the Captain told me. It was better that her own grandfather should tell Anne about it all; that fine old man!”
“Then Anne never was a Golden Girl, after all,” said Eddie, who had overheard and half understood what was being said. “Nor even gilded,” added Freddie.
“Hush! she may be gold inside,” said Nancy, thinking of an ending for her fairy story.
“I wish I had known this before I wrote Mother,” Beverly mused as she walked away. “I’ll have to add a codicil.”
“I’ve already telegraphed Father,” Norma whispered to Gilda in their tent. Girls do like to tell news!