“Nothing would suit me better. I’m primed for high adventure.”
“Then let’s go this afternoon; there’s no time like the present.”
The matter of lobsters was forgotten in this new excitement, but Miss Rindy brought back the subject, and the two girls were obliged to explain the anatomy of the creature before they were permitted to talk of anything else.
“One thing at a time,” said Miss Rindy. “I have a single-track mind, and can’t mix lobsters with haunted houses.”
“But you will go with us, won’t you? Please,” Ellen begged.
“How far is it?”
“Over on the next island.”
“Too far for an old limp-and-go-fetch-it like me. Don’t stay too late, and don’t let the goblins get you.”
The girls started off in high feather. Their way led to the end of Beatty’s Island, and thence by means of a bridge to Minor’s Island. Wild roses adorned the sides of the road, little ripe strawberries peeped out from the running tendrils of their vines, a sandpiper twittered and ran along ahead of them in frightened endeavor to lead them away from its nest, gulls screamed in noisy combat as they followed in the wake of a fishing boat, but the girls heeded none of these, for their spirits were winged for adventure.
In Mabel’s companionship Ellen felt happier than she had been since the dear studio days. On this peaceful island all the troubles of the past three years seemed to roll from her; the present was enough, no need to peer into the shadowy future. “Ah me, how glorious all this is!” she sighed contentedly. “I wonder if you know, Mabel Wickham, what it means to me to have you to walk with, to talk to. Never have I had such a dear chummy person to delight my soul.”