“Frank, I must say,” laughed Tom Cameron.
“I guess he’s been in the hermit business before,” said Cora, sparkling at Tom in his uniform. “But this is his first season at the Harbor.”
“I wonder if he belongs to the hermit’s union and carries a union card,” suggested Jennie Stone soberly. “I don’t think we should patronize non-union hermits.”
“Goody!” cried Cora, clapping her hands. “Let’s ask him.”
Ruth said nothing. She rather wished she might get out of the trip to Reef Island without offending anybody. But that seemed impossible. She really had seen all the hermits she cared to see!
She could not, however, be morose and absent-minded in a party of which Cora Grimsby and Jennie Stone were the moving spirits. It was a gay crowd that crossed the harbor in the Stazy to land at a roughly built dock under the high bluff of the wooded island.
“There’s the hermit!” Cora cried, as they landed. “See him sitting on the rock before the door of his cabin?”
“Right on the job,” suggested Tom.
“No unlucky city fly shall escape that spider’s web,” cried Jennie.
He was a patriarchal looking man. His beard swept his breast. He wore shabby garments, was barefooted, and carried a staff as though he were lame or rheumatic.