“Poor men! And no ladies around. Unless they have mermaids visit them,” and Helen chuckled too. “Wouldn’t it be fun to hire a nice big launch—a whole party of us Briarwood girls, for instance—and sail out there and go aboard that lightship? Wouldn’t the crew be surprised to see us?”
“Maybe,” said Ruth seriously, “they wouldn’t let us aboard. Maybe it’s against the rules. Or perhaps they only select men who are misanthropes, or women-haters, to tend lightships.”
“Are there such things as women-haters?” demanded Helen, big-eyed and innocent looking. “I thought they were fabled creatures—like—like mermaids, for instance.”
“Goodness! Do you think, Helen Cameron, that every man you meet is going to fall on his knees to you?”
“No-o,” confessed Helen. “That is, not unless I push him a little, weeny bit! And that reminds me, Ruthie. You ought to see the great bunch of roses Tom had the gardener cut yesterday to send to some girl. Oh, a barrel of ’em!”
“Indeed?” asked Ruth, a faint flush coming into her cheek. “Has Tom a crush on a new girl? I thought that Hazel Gray, the movie queen, had his full and complete attention?”
“How you talk!” cried Helen. “I suppose Tom will have a dozen flames before he settles down——”
Ruth suddenly burst into laughter. She knew she had been foolish for a moment.
“What nonsense to talk so about a boy in a military school!” she cried. “Why! he’s only a boy yet.”
“Yes, I know,” sighed Helen, speaking of her twin reflectively. “He’s merely a child. Isn’t it funny how much older we are than Tom is?”